His once pristine tuxedo was now a twisted, ruined thing, the fine fabric ripped and soaked through with the lifeblood of those he had so ruthlessly dispatched. He let out a slow, measured breath, trying to quell the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. As he continued to survey the carnage and the cowering fey around him who were staring at him fearfully, his jaw tightened.
He had not wanted this, had not sought it out.
But when the fey warriors had tried to take his life, he had been left with no choice. It was kill or be killed, and he had chosen to survive.