Morning came, soft light creeping past the shutters and warming the wooden floors, yet Riley slept like a baby—deep, peaceful, undisturbed.
The faint scent of blood still clung to him, but his breathing remained steady, almost serene.
Nothing weighed on his mind. Nothing troubled his conscience.
Everything was under his control, exactly as he wanted it.
Downstairs, however, the inn was a different world entirely.
Whispers ricocheted around the common room.
Patrons huddled into tight circles, some pacing, others gripping mugs of ale with trembling fingers despite the early hour.
No one dared venture outside—not with fifteen corpses piled behind the inn like discarded sacks of grain.
The discovery had drawn half the district in a frenzy.
Then the heavy front door slammed open.
"Make way! Officers coming through!" someone yelled.
Boots thundered inside.
An officer in a polished chestplate stepped forward, his blue cape marking his rank.
