Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 459: Falling to Ruin III

Chapter 459: Falling to Ruin III

Jean Nott was an infernal damnation, a demon that had risen from hell. Even with a blade through his throat, he could still desperately cling to his consciousness, using the last bit of strength he had to throw Atticus his off-putting grin.

Atticus had never met a more durable bastard than this― sadly, this was also the man Atticus most wanted dead.

"A child," he whispered, practically mouthing the words only. Barely any sound left his lips, and since Daphne was so far away, Atticus highly doubted Daphne could hear anything. However, Jean Nott seemed all too determined to finish his little speech. "Gone. Yours."

"Shut up!"

"Atticus," Daphne cried out, bursting out from where she had hidden all this while.

She stumbled forward, her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her skirt as she raised them to walk better. When she reached her husband, her knees were already wobbly and she could barely support herself.

Her mind was reeling and, in turn, it felt as though the rest of the world was spinning as well. Daphne couldn’t seem to even walk in a straight line― her feet felt heavy and she felt her head go light, her lungs forever short of breath. In fact, she would’ve crashed straight against the rubble if it weren’t for the warm layer of purple that instantly wrapped around her, lowering her gently onto the ground.

It was her husband’s doing. Her lovely, wonderful, beloved husband, who was apparently the father of her child whom she could not remember.

Why couldn’t she remember?

"I-Is it true?" she asked, her voice trembling. Tears began to well in her eyes, causing her vision to turn blurry. When she blinked, she felt a drop fall, leaving a cold, shimmering trail down her cheek. "What Eugene just said... Is it true?"

Even on the brink of death, Jean Nott couldn’t help but allow his smile to brighten.

Eugene.

Daphne had called him by his name― his real name!

It felt as though they had gone back in time to when they were still friends, a time when Daphne had allowed him to call her by her first name. His heart was warm. It fluttered like the first blooms of spring; even the air felt fresher, the world felt brighter, and―

A splatter of crimson stained the rubble beneath their feet. Atticus stretched his hand out, bringing the blade from the center of Jean Nott’s neck to one side, cutting the entire left side of the latter’s neck wide open. It tore through bone and flesh, blood spilling from the open veins as Jean Nott’s face remained forever frozen in time.

Daphne gasped in fright, her hands moving to her lips as a silent scream left her throat. She shuffled back, her eyes wide as she watched Jean Nott’s head flop in horror. It dangled for a few seconds before the remaining flesh that kept his head attached to the rest of his body completely broke off.

His head toppled onto the ground, rolling towards her and leaving a red line all the way from his execution point to where she was. When it came to a stop, his eyes were still staring directly at her― even while dead, Jean Nott’s expression was the dictionary definition of utter joy.

Daphne, however, did not share the same excitement.

She frantically inched back, scurrying away as a cry ripped through her throat. Even in her weakened state, she was able to quickly put a considerable amount of distance between herself and Jean Nott’s detached head.

Unlike Silas’s or even Alistair’s head, this time, Daphne knew that the man who was beheaded was thoroughly dead. There was no more life behind Jean Nott’s eyes― the color was dull and diminished, completely devoid of any soul.

Then again, when she looked up and met Atticus’s gaze, she thought the same for her husband. He, too, had no life in his eyes. All Daphne saw was a cold-blooded murderer― no, not because he had just killed Jean Nott. This madman deserved to die after all he had done.

However, Nereus didn’t deserve to lose his eye. Zephyr didn’t deserve to lose his wing.

And her baby.

What happened to her baby? Did Atticus kill it too?

"Are you alright, Daphne?" Atticus asked.

He walked forward, his steps slow. However, his long legs easily allowed him to cross plenty of distance with just one stride. Daphne could only scuttle further back, her shoulders heaving as she tried to maintain an even breath.

Panic rose through her body― she felt as though she was quickly drowning. Even though she was breathing, her lungs felt deprived of oxygen. Every breath felt as though she was expending useless energy and no matter how hard she breathed in, she couldn’t feel it filling her lungs like air was supposed to.

"No..." Daphne muttered under her breath, shaking her head, her lips pale. "Get away from me. Get away..."

"Daphne..." Atticus repeated her name, his voice a little softer this time.

She used to love the way it lingered on his tongue. Yet, now, it only brought on a shiver of disgust. Paired with the fact that his face was completely emotionless, no matter how moving his voice was, Daphne could not feel any warmth from him.

Her husband had been replaced by the devil. That was the only rational explanation she could think of. Daphne was sure Atticus wasn’t like this. This wasn’t actually Atticus.

Yes. It must be a fake, someone who was trying to impersonate him. If Alistair could replicate a person’s appearance via a potion, surely someone else could too, right? Atticus would never do this.

Would he?

Memories from a time long past flashed through her head― the assailants who tried to sneak into Vramid’s royal palace on her wedding night had been put down like mangy dogs on the street. Right from the first day Daphne had known him, Atticus had always been like this. Since when had she been looking at him through rose-tinted glasses?

The illusion of a perfect husband had shattered right before her very eyes.

Daphne looked up at the man who had stopped before her. He kicked the head away, barely even batting an eyelid as it rolled off the edge of the steps and tumbled a distance away. His golden eyes were completely trained on her, and even when he squatted down to meet her at eye level, she felt as though she was being watched by a great serpent who viewed her as prey.

"Daphne," he said, "I’m here."

Yes. There was a monster here.

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