​"Your tongue has grown far too long in my absence, you bastard," Olivia said, her voice a flat line of ice.

​Sylvester pulled himself up, standing with a arrogant grace. He spat to the side, his eyes dragging over her. "And it seems you’ve forgotten who I am. Do you honestly think hiding behind this... thing will shield you from what’s coming?"

​Matthias’s reaction was skeletal. His fingers locked around the hilt of his blade, the metal beginning to sing as he drew it—until Olivia’s hand clamped onto his forearm. Her grip was cold, the touch of a corpse, forcing his hand to stay, shoving the steel back into its sheath.

​She wasn’t offering him peace. She was claiming the kill.

​"Do not rush your departure, darling," Olivia said, her tone dry and pitiless. "I intend to make your end every bit as agonizing as the nightmare you wove for me. Believe me, Sylvie... I’m paying back every cent of that debt."

​A thick, suffocating doubt began to coil in Matthias’s chest. He looked from her cold face to the man standing there.

​"What did this filth do to you?" Matthias’s voice was a jagged hiss. "Tell me."

​Olivia didn’t blink. Her gaze remained nailed to the man before them. She began to pace, walking in a slow, predatory circle around him. The sharp crack of her heels against the stone floor was the only sound in the room—a rhythmic, funeral beat. Sylvester’s eyes followed her, tracking her like a cornered animal.

​"This bastard," she began, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "He was Elvira’s fool, if you want the truth of it. Her favorite toy. Her most cherished plaything."

​"You mean her dog," Sylvester spat, his voice thick with defiance.

​Olivia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Yes. Him, and all the others. You only got the edge because of your face."

​She paused, her eyes turning into obsidian shards. "But that isn’t why we’re here. Elvira’s betrayal got you thinking, didn’t it? Since I couldn’t have the younger daughter, why not try the elder? Do you remember, Sylvie?"

​Sylvester’s face froze, turning into a rigid, porcelain mask.

​Olivia turned her gaze toward Matthias. "This son of a whore tried to force himself on me—to take what was never his to touch." Her voice dropped to a lethal, gutteral whisper. "It’s time I collected the interest on that debt."

​Matthias didn’t hear another word. The last thread of his restraint snapped like a dry bone. He lunged, a maddened blur of shadow that swallowed Sylvester whole. He rained down a barrage of brutal, meat-heavy blows. The hall filled with the sickening crunch of a collapsing nose and the raw, jagged shrieks of a man being dismantled. Matthias wasn’t just hitting a man; he was trying to pulverize a memory.

​"Matthias!" Olivia’s scream pierced the red haze of his vision.

​"What?" he roared, spinning toward her. His fist was trembling, slick and dripping with fresh crimson.

​"Get away from him!" she commanded, her eyes flashing with a cold, absolute authority. "This vengeance is mine. I will not have you dulling the edge of my pleasure. Back off!"

​Matthias retreated, his chest heaving in jagged, broken gasps. On the floor, Sylvester turned his head and spat a glob of blood onto the rug. His face was a ruined landscape of purple and red—a canvas of fresh agony. A wet, wheezing cackle escaped his shattered mouth, a sound of pure, unadulterated malice.

​"Yes... back off, soldier," Sylvester rasped, his eyes gleaming like dying embers. "Bash my face in all you like... you can never scrub the stain of my touch from her skin. It’s etched there forever."

​Matthias looked ready to tear the man’s throat out with his teeth. His entire frame shook with a feral, suppressed rage. But with a final, shuddering breath, he retreated. "Fine," he hissed, the word tasting of bile. "He’s yours."

​Olivia let out a long, weary sigh—a sound of clinical, exhausted relief. She extended her hand, her stillness more terrifying than Matthias’s explosion. Her eyes never left Sylvester, who was panting on the floor, broken and unable to find his feet.

​"Matthias," she said, her voice a flat, razor-thin line. "Give me your sword."

​"What?"

​Sylvester spat a fragment of a shattered tooth and managed a twisted, bloody grin. "Are you going to play executioner? You know the cost, Olivia. You know what Elvira will do to you if you spill my blood."

​Olivia ignored him. Her fingers closed around the hilt of Matthias’s blade, reclaiming the steel. A sharp, jagged smile carved its way across her face—a look of refined, lethal cruelty.

​"Let’s just say..." she whispered, her eyes locking onto his with a gaze that promised nothing but ruin. "I have an idea far more poetic than a simple death."

​She raised the sword high. Sylvester squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body convulsing in a violent tremor as he braced for the cold steel to meet his neck. But the blade didn’t descend toward his throat.

​With one swift, violent arc, the steel swung between his legs—landing with sickening precision directly on his groin.

​Sylvester’s scream wasn’t human; it was a primal shriek that tore through the hall as he watched his manhood severed from his body. It became a heap of raw meat in a crimson pool that gushed from his ruined lower half.

​Olivia stood there, watching the flesh on the floor with a hollow, dark pleasure, while Sylvester thrashed in his own blood like a dying animal.

​"Isn’t this better?" she asked flatly. She turned to Matthias, whose face was frozen like stone, his eyes locked onto the carnage. "Now, a part of my debt is paid."

​She wiped the blood-slicked blade on the hem of her dress, then asked with terrifying calm: "Shall we continue, dear?"

​Suddenly, Matthias’s hands moved, covering her eyes.

​"What are you doing?" Olivia asked, her voice muffled behind his palms.

​"Just a moment," he muttered.

​He reached up, yanking his cravat from his neck with a sharp tug. He tossed the expensive fabric onto the floor, letting it fall over the severed flesh, shrouding the gore.

​He pulled his hand away. "You can look now."

​Olivia stared at the makeshift shroud on the floor, then arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?"

​"Even if it’s been cut off, it’s still—" Matthias cut himself off, his jaw tight with a strange, possessive seriousness. "For God’s sake, were you really going to keep staring at it?"

​A cold, mocking realization dawned on Olivia’s face. "So, you aren’t disturbed by what I just did? You’re only bothered that I was looking at a shredded piece of meat?"

​"Why would I be bothered by what you did?" Matthias countered, his eyes dark with a mix of reverence and obsession. "It was magnificent. I loved it."

​"I’ll kill you... I’ll fucking kill both of you!" Sylvester shrieked, his raw, frantic wail tearing through the hall. His hand crawled, scratching and tearing at the floor with broken nails, desperate to reach the severed hunk of flesh that used to be his manhood.

​Olivia crossed her arms, watching him with a mocking, tilted head, utterly unfazed by his agony. "Mmm... I doubt you have enough life left in you to even finish that thought, let alone act on it, Sylvie."

​She extended the blood-slicked sword toward Matthias, a jagged, predatory smile carving its way across her lips. In the deep, dark abyss of her mind, a cold curiosity took hold. She wanted to test the leash. She wanted to see how deep into the filth her ’husband’ would plunge just to please her.

​"My dear husband," she whispered, her voice like silk wrapping a razor blade. "Would you be so kind? Rip this lecher’s heart out. I want to hold it while it’s still warm."

​Sylvester’s eyes went wide, reflecting a hollow, absolute terror as he looked at Matthias. But Matthias only mirrored Olivia’s grin—a cold, sickening reflection of total devotion.

​"Keep the sword," Matthias said, his voice dropping into a lethal, dead calm. "I don’t think I’ll be needing it for this."

​"As you wish, darling."

​[ WARNING: This Chapter contains graphic violence, and dark themes (+18). Reader discretion is strongly advised. ]

​Matthias lunged, grabbing Sylvester by the hair and slamming his head back against the stone. Sylvester thrashed, a pathetic wail escaping his lungs as tears and blood turned his ruined face into a wet mess.

​"Please... please, mercy! I beg of you!" Sylvester whimpered, his voice cracking into a useless sob.

​Matthias offered nothing but a gaze as cold as a frostbitten grave.

​In one fluid, savage motion, Matthias drove his bare hand into Sylvester’s chest. The distinct, nauseating crack of the sternum snapping filled the silent hall. Sylvester’s breath hitched, a wet, bubbly gurgle escaping his lips as his ribs splintered around Matthias’s forearm. He could feel Matthias’s fingers closing, crushing the wet mass of his heart within an iron grip.

​Then, with a violent, feral rip, Matthias tore the organ out from the gaping hole in his chest.

​Blood sprayed in a thick, hot arc, splattering across the floor and painting them both. Sylvester’s eyes remained fixed, wide and lifeless, staring with personal horror at his own heart beating its very last seconds before him. The last flicker of light vanished from his pupils, and his soul finally fled his ruined, hollowed-out carcass.

Matthias let go of the hair, and the corpse slumped at his feet like a discarded sack of meat. He stepped toward Olivia, his hand extending through the shadows until he dropped the mangled, still-warm heart into her open palms.

​"Your gift," he said simply.

​Olivia gripped the organ, a sharp, genuine laugh escaping her. "And here I thought you were the sane one. It seems you’re just as deranged as I am."

​"That is why we are husband and wife," Matthias replied, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Fate, I suppose."

​He leaned in closer, his eyes scanning her blood-splattered face. "So, what are your orders, Lady Lokron? What is the next move?"

​Olivia smiled at him, a look of pure, calculated malice. "I’m going to need your... exceptional skills tonight, my husband."

​"Skills?"

​"Kira! Come here," Olivia called out, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.

​The doors creaked open, and her maid stepped in. Kira’s eyes darted toward the hollowed-out carcass on the floor, but her expression remained professionally blank.

​Matthias stiffened. "You brought your maid here?"

​"Yes. I ordered her to follow us," Olivia replied coolly. "Who else is going to clean up this mess? Certainly not me."

​"Why clean it at all?" Matthias asked, his brow furrowing. "Let the crows have him."

​"I have my reasons. I’ll show you soon enough." She turned to the maid. "Kira, clean this up. Quickly."

​"Yes, my Lady."

​Hours later, darkness swallowed the city as their carriage rattled through the cobblestone streets. Inside the cramped, rhythmic shadows of the cabin, Matthias found himself unable to look away from his wife.

​"Why are you staring at me like that?" Olivia asked, not bothering to look at him.

​"I just... I didn’t expect you to suggest something so... unconventional," Matthias admitted, his voice reflecting a rare moment of genuine shock.

​"What?"

​"The way you handled his body. It was outside of anything I’ve ever seen."

​Olivia sighed, leaning her head back against the velvet seat. "You were the one who insisted on coming with me. Stop annoying me now."

​"I’m not annoying you," he countered, a slow, dark grin spreading across his face. "I’m impressed."

​"Well," Olivia whispered, looking out at the passing moonlight, "your impression won’t be half as great as Elvira’s when she finds my little surprise."