"If you won't let me live, then let me end this myself. Because I can't—no, I won't—go back to that room. Not this time."
The Duke's eyes widened briefly, his composure cracking just enough to show a flicker of alarm. His mana barrier shimmered faintly, but he didn't move. He studied her, his expression unreadable, his body rigid with tension.
"Aeliana," he said slowly, his tone measured but edged with steel. "Put the knife down."
"No," she whispered, her tears spilling freely now. Her chest heaved as she struggled to keep her voice steady. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. If you send me back, I might as well be dead. At least this way, it's my choice."
"You're not thinking clearly," he said, his voice softer but no less firm. "You know as well as I do that I could take that knife from you before you even blink. Don't force my hand."