Eleanor's POV
Hugo's face went dead cold. Not angry. Just... empty. The kind of emptiness that was somehow worse than rage.
"You're good at talking," he said quietly. "I'll give you that. Words come easy when you have nothing real to back them up." He stepped closer, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the chill radiating from him. "But soon, Eleanor. Soon everything will come crashing down. And when it does, when you're counting down the days until your soul is carved out and replaced, you'll have no one."
He let that sink in for a heartbeat.
"No one to comfort you. No one to hold you. No one to tell you it's going to be okay, because it won't be." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Except me. I'll be the only one close enough to reach you. The only one who might give you the things you crave—the things those Valerius brothers could have given you, but never will now. Not anymore."
He took a step back, his empty eyes never leaving mine.
