Chapter 1215

Chapter 1215:

I didn’t flinch. My eyes were as cold as my words. “Burn in hell, Antoni. It’s time you answer for everything you’ve done.”

I gave Amon a sharp nod. No words were needed—he knew what to do.

As our soldiers closed in, a handful of Antoni’s diehards charged forward, throwing themselves into the fight to block our way with swords drawn.

“Move it, Mr. Harrison, run!” one of them shouted, fear evident in every word.

Antoni paused, uncertainty flashing across his face. Then, with a clenched jaw, he pushed forward, stumbling as he tried to break free. He moved faster than I expected, slipping through the trap with the swiftness of a shadow.

“Running away?” I sneered, my eyes icy with disdain. “You won’t make it far, Antoni.”

I didn’t waste a second—I was after him, fast as lightning.

Antoni’s treachery and sins demanded payment, and I wasn’t about to let him slip away without facing the consequences. Fear pushed him forward, his steps wild and uncontrolled, until he found himself teetering at the edge of a steep drop.

He stared down at the dizzying drop, paralyzed, gasping for breath. Then, slowly, he looked back at me, panic flashing in his eyes. “There’s no escape now. Surrender, and I might give you a quick, painless end,” I said, my frown deepening, my voice as cold as ice.

“Makenna, we’ll see about that!” he retorted, defiance burning in his voice.

With a wild laugh, he threw himself off the edge, vanishing into the dark, pitiless depths below.

I dashed to the edge, my eyes locked on the spot where he had disappeared into the endless black.

The cold wind slapped my face, bringing with it the smell of stone and hopelessness. I hadn’t finished him myself, but I had taken his arm—avenging Paula and Rosaline.

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Antoni’s POV:

I hurled myself off the cliff. Wind shrieked past my ears, howling like a beast unchained, threatening to tear my sanity loose from its grip. The world blurred into a violent smear of air and speed. My body dropped like a stone, every muscle tense, every nerve braced. My heart thrashed against my ribs—wild, frantic—like a bird trapped in a burning cage.

My teeth clenched until my jaw screamed; I held onto one blinding, furious thought: I would not let that venomous wretch, Makenna, be the death of me!

Bang!

The earth hit back hard. I crashed into a thicket of bushes with bone-snapping force. Pain detonated behind my eyes, and for a moment, I floated at the edge of consciousness, darkness licking at my vision like a tide pulling me under.

My severed arm burned like it had been set on fire. Blood surged from the wound in thick, pulsing waves, soaking through cloth and pooling in the dirt, hot and unstoppable.

Groaning, I clutched at what remained, fingers trembling as agony clawed through my chest. Somehow, through sheer force of will, I shoved myself upright. The only thought driving me was survival—I had to reach the Wizard Clan’s royal palace before it was too late. Every step was a battle. My head swam, the landscape twisting and tilting like some cruel illusion. The world lost its shape.

Blood continued to pour, streaking across my vision in shades of crimson and ruin.

My breathing grew

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