Jeon’s face vanished from her sight, and with it, the last flicker of hope slipped away.

She had broken her oath. She had stepped into the West Wing. She had risked everything she had left, only to lose it all.

And for what? For nothing.

The thought cut into her chest as the guards yanked her forward. Their fingers dug into her arms like fire, dragging her away from the crown prince’s shadow and shoving her back into the grip of men who didn’t even bother to treat her as human. She stumbled, her shoes scraping against the marble, her body pushed ahead like an animal being led to slaughter.

Her breath stuck in her throat when she caught their faces. They weren’t nervous now like they were in front of the crown Prince. They were grinning, passing each other smirks as if she were theirs to use. That was when she realised, their hands weren’t just harsh. They were wrong.

“Look,” one muttered, his voice thick with a kind of filthy awe. His eyes slid down her arm, to the thin sleeve that did nothing to hide the angry marks his fingers had left. “Her skin turns red under the lightest touch.”