The return journey to the estate was starkly different from our departure. The city's vibrant chaos faded behind us, replaced by the rhythmic, monotonous clip-clop of the horses' hooves on the paved road. The heavy leather pouch of coins sat in my lap, a physical weight that felt far heavier than its contents. I had done what Darius asked. I had been his enforcer, his blunt instrument. And I hated how easily the role had fit.
Eliot rode beside me, his posture as straight and unreadable as ever. The guards followed, a silent, looming presence. We were a small, grim procession, a testament to the Duke's power.
When we arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows across the manicured lawns. I handed the reins of my horse to a waiting groom and walked into the castle, the pouch of coins clutched in my hand.
