"We were clearly the target," Nero said grimly, his voice low and tight. A solemn weight hung in the air, thick with unspoken dread.
Suddenly, Merek's expression shifted. It had already been darkened by the death of two wraiths, but now a deeper shadow passed over his features.
Without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed toward the kitchen, his boots pounding against the tile.
The moment he entered, a sickening snarl erupted. Dozens of zombies turned from the blood-streaked freezers, their sunken eyes locking onto him. In an instant, they surged forward.
But Merek simply raised a single finger.
The effect was immediate and eerie. Every zombie dropped to their knees, bowing low with their heads pressed to the blood-speckled floor, arms outstretched as though in reverence to a king. The air grew cold. Still.
