Vale clamped a hand over the man's mouth, silencing him before the scream could form.
The man jolted awake instantly, eyes wide with terror as he registered the dark figure looming above him.
Vale pressed a finger to his lips, a silent warning. Then, he spoke.
"Darius Flamesborne."
The name hit like a hammer. The man's eyes widened even further.
He swallowed hard and whispered, "I don't know who that—"
Before he could finish the lie, Vale summoned his weapon with a flick of his wrist, placing its cold edge against the man's throat.
"Try again."
The man hesitated, breathing shallow, then confessed, "My father. He was my father."
"Father?" Vale paused, the weight of the word dragging his thoughts backward.
It had been eighty years since the royal assassination. Of course his uncle would be long dead. But the son—he might still hold the answers.
"The assassination of the Royal Family," Vale said coldly. "What role did your father play?"
