The sound of Kian's foot cracking against the stone broke the silence like thunder.
One second, Cyrus was sitting there—unmoving, hollow—and the next, Kian's hand was fisted in his hair, dragging him up by the roots before he even had time to breathe.
The first hit landed hard.
Then another.
And another.
Cyrus didn't move. He didn't block. He didn't even flinch.
Blood splattered across the floor, dark against the pale light streaming through the narrow window. The snakes in his hair hissed weakly, writhing for a heartbeat before retreating, their forms melting into nothing until all that remained was the red mess of his real hair, tangled and wet.
"Say something!" Kian snarled, his voice rough, cracking around the edges. "Fucking say something, damn it!"
He slammed Cyrus against the wall. His claws scraped against the stone beside his head, leaving deep gouges. "What did you do to her?"
