Rosalia — POV
After that incident with Emily, no other problems arose.
At least, none on the surface.
Cassel ordered his men to cook more food for everyone, and the camp slowly regained a fragile sense of order. The smell of hot meals drifted through the abandoned house, masking the lingering stench of blood, rust, and rot that clung to the world outside. For a brief moment, it almost felt… normal.
Of course, it wasn't because my favorite villain had suddenly grown a compassionate heart toward the group. Cassel wasn't that kind of man. If anything, kindness was a language he refused to speak unless it served a purpose.
And this served one.
We couldn't afford to turn everyone into enemies—especially now that we were technically one team and would be traveling together for an extended period of time. Cooperation, even forced and brittle, was better than open hostility. Cassel understood that better than anyone.
