An Emergency

Isolde remained still, staring out at the city as the room fell deathly silent once more. She let out a slow, deliberate sigh, tilting her head slightly as her lips curled into a smirk that was both amused and malevolent.

The faint moonlight caught the sharp angles of her face, casting her in a spectral glow.

"One way or another, Viktor will belong to me," she murmured, her voice low and venomous, the words a dark promise to the empty room. "If I have to eliminate every mate fate brings his way, so be it."

Her smirk deepened, her crimson eyes glinting with unholy determination. She turned slowly from the window, her long, flowing gown whispering against the floor as she moved toward her throne.

Sinking onto the throne with practiced grace, Isolde leaned back, her fingers curling around the cold, armrests as she starred ahead.

***