Apollo's eyes widened, his heart—or what was left of it—shuddering just a single time. But that last pulse of light sent fragments and shredded pulp of flesh flooding his body.
He toppled over slowly, slamming to the ground.
Grey exhaled a breath, cracking his neck in one direction, and then the other. His blood blade hadn't reacted the same way to Apollo's body as it had to Zara's. So that probably meant there was little to gain from his blood.
It either meant that Grey had already reached the limit of potential that was possible for snatching blood from other people—or at least these people. Or, the Imperial Family was the only family with blood that was useful to him.
Whatever the answer was, Apollo himself was useless to him.
"… Zara…"
The echo of Apollo's last words barely reached Grey's ears and he couldn't help but scoff. He came here for that bitch? Well deserved death.
