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The echo of Noah’s name shocked all who heard it. Those who frequented the Knight’s Sheath had seen him and Daniel perform their evening concerts, but for most, those who had only heard of him through rumors and stories, they were seeing him for the first time. Up in his box seat, Galvin’s nervous tick began to reveal itself as he trembled from head to toe.

“I was the one who gave her the bottle, though technically, I was just acting as the courier. She was after a special potion and accidentally received that venom instead.”“Then you know it’s her—our—fault that Bella went on her rampage.”“You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”