The men hauled her toward the upper floor, their rough hands digging into her skin. Elvira didn't stop fighting; she twisted and clawed at the air, her gaze locked onto Mathias. If looks could draw blood, he would have been carved to pieces, but he remained untouched, standing there with a terrifying, blank indifference. To him, she wasn't a woman anymore. She was a debt being settled.
As they reached the base of the stairs, Mathias spoke. His voice didn't carry anger—it carried a cold, administrative finality.
"When you are finished... clothe her. I have no interest in seeing a creature like her naked."
The leader let out a jagged, guttural laugh that made the air feel oily. "As you command, my Lord."
They dragged her up, the sound of her heels dragging against the wood fading into the shadows of the hallway. Then, the silence hit. It wasn't a peaceful quiet; it was the heavy, suffocating stillness of a tomb.
