"Let's talk about those legal rights."
Despite the Governor wincing in agonizing pain from his hand being sliced clean off, he still managed to raise his head.
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat of shock as he uttered, "W-what legal rights are you talking about, my lord?"
Blood dripped steadily onto the expensive rug and the mahogany table, a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that filled the silence.
Losing any more would make him go unconscious; in order to avoid that, Alabaster had to hold his arm firmly, squeezing the stump to stymie the bleeding.
But Dorian didn't care.
He watched the blood pool with an air of detachment.
"Ah, right. It's no surprise you're confused; no one has dared to question your authority in years. No problem, I'll do the honors of explaining…"
Dorian reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a folded parchment.
He snapped it open and gently placed the contract on the table, right next to the severed hand, clearly for the Governor to see.
