As everyone stood there in a stunned silence, nobody having the strength or the courage to speak after witnessing the brutal scene that had unfolded, the heavy silence was finally broken. Cobra stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Sammy's, his gaze intense, assessing. He didn't know about her past, not the true story, but he was undoubtedly reading the raw power and cold resolve in her posture.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was loud and authoritative, cutting through the stunned quiet like a whip. "What are you doing, fools?!" he bellowed, his eyes still locked on Sammy. "Take Andrew to the infirmary, right away!"
The order galvanized the guards. Two of them immediately sprang forward, gingerly approaching the bleeding, unconscious Andrew. But even as he commanded his men, Cobra maintained that unsettling eye contact with Sammy. He hadn't so much given an order as he had made a pronouncement, and the way he said it, his gaze still fixed on her, was almost as if he was asking for Sammy's approval. As if, after witnessing her ferocity, he felt compelled to acknowledge her, perhaps even seek her silent permission, before tending to her prey.
Sammy, still kneeling amidst the blood and scattered brooms, felt Cobra's gaze like a physical weight. Her own eyes, still burning with that unsettling mix of resentment and madness, did not flinch. She simply stared back, her face a mask of serene, deadly stillness. The raw anger had dissipated, replaced by a cold, unwavering resolve. She had protected herself. And now, she waited.
Cobra finally tore his gaze from Sammy and glanced briefly at his injured son, a flicker of pained fury crossing his features before his eyes snapped back to her. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, then another, until he stood directly over her, his shadow falling across her blood-stained shirt. The silence in the hallway was absolute, the guards holding their breaths, anticipating an explosion.
"You, girl," Cobra said, his voice surprisingly calm, almost a murmur, yet it held an undeniable undercurrent of steel. "What precisely... happened here?" He wasn't accusing, not yet. It was a question, an invitation to explain, but one delivered with the weight of absolute authority.
Sammy remained motionless, her face impassive. Her eyes, however, lost a fraction of their madness, replacing it with a steely glint of defiance. She slowly, deliberately, tightened her grip on the bloody knife. She opened her mouth to speak, a raw, ragged breath escaping her lips, but no words came. The horror of what had just transpired, the memory of Andrew's hands, the primal fear that had driven her actions it all welled up, a suffocating wave that stole her voice. She could only stare back at Cobra, her gaze a silent challenge.
Then, as if a dam had broken, the words burst forth, cold and clear despite the tremor deep within her. "I was protecting myself from that drunken fool!" Sammy's voice, though quiet, cut through the tense silence, carrying an undeniable ring of truth and defiance. Her grip on the bloody knife remained unwavering, a testament to her words. "If I hadn't, he would've done unspeakable things to me." She clenched her teeth, the memory flashing, her eyes burning into Cobra's.
Her voice hardened, laced with bitter accusation. "How can you even sleep at night knowing that your son is doing such things under your nose?" The question was a direct challenge to his authority, his proclaimed vision. "I thought Vipers was a safe place where people can live peacefully, not being afraid of some drunken pervert." Despite the furious words, Sammy's face remained utterly emotionless, a stark mask of controlled outrage. It was a terrifying display of raw indignation held rigidly in check, making her defiance all the more potent.
"I formally apologize for my son's behavior," Cobra said, his voice resonating with an uncharacteristic humility, yet still holding that commanding undertone. He kept his head bowed for a moment, then slowly straightened, his eyes still fixed on Sammy, as if seeking her silent approval, her acceptance of his contrition. "Andrew has been problematic ever since Carla's capture, you see. He was always more obedient towards his mother. And to take his mind off things, he... he started drinking. I have specifically told him that he is only allowed to drink in his room, under supervision, but he doesn't listen to me..."
Before Cobra could finish his explanation, Sammy cut him off, her voice devoid of sympathy, sharp as the knife in her hand. "That's just an excuse!" she interjected, her emotionless face belying the fierce conviction in her tone. "You're his father. It's your duty to discipline your son, not give him free rein to do whatever he wants, to terrorize people in your supposed safe haven." Her gaze was unwavering, daring him to deny the truth of her words.
Cobra shifted his weight, his eyes briefly flicking around the faces of his silent guards. A hint of discomfort, a rare vulnerability, crossed his features before settling back into his usual stoicism. "You don't understand our relationship," he said, his voice lowering slightly, almost to a strained murmur. "It's... complicated." The word hung awkwardly in the air, a tacit admission of a personal failing he clearly preferred to keep hidden from his subordinates.
Sammy scoffed, a short, sharp sound that cut through the tension. "Complicated my ass," she retorted, her voice flat, unwavering. "You're just a neglectful father who has spoiled his son so much that he doesn't think before doing anything." She took a deep, deliberate breath, the bloody knife still clutched firmly in her hand. Her eyes, still holding that unsettling intensity, narrowed slightly as she continued, lowering her voice to a chilling whisper that nevertheless carried clearly in the silent hallway. "And stop with that stiff apology, Cobra. Actions speak louder than words."
Cobra's stoic facade finally cracked, a flicker of genuine frustration, perhaps even anger, crossing his face. His voice rose, though still controlled, edged with a dangerous chill. "What do you want me to do, huh? Execute him? Exile him?" He took a deep breath and said in a calm voice. "I think you've already took the justice in your own hands by mutilating his arm."
Without waiting for a reply, Cobra spun around, addressing the guards and the assembled crowd. His voice immediately snapped back to its usual authoritative bark, though perhaps with a hint of forced normalcy. "Ahm, you all can go back," he commanded, waving a dismissive hand. "Thanks for your concern, but this situation has been... handled."
Slowly, reluctantly, the people began to disperse, their whispers low and hushed as they retreated back into their rooms, glancing back at Sammy with a mixture of fear and awe. The guards, relieved, Andrew was moved to the infirmary.
Once the hallway had mostly cleared, leaving only Sammy and Cobra, the leader turned back to her. His expression was once again unreadable, his eyes piercing. "You too should head back to your room," he instructed, his voice calmer now, but with an underlying current of finality. "There's nothing more to discuss until your friends come back with my Carla." The subtle emphasis on "your friends" was a clear reminder, a veiled threat and a promise intertwined. He hadn't punished her, but she knew in next few days a storm was coming towards the Vipers