The carriage was sneaking through the cobbled streets of the capital, paved with rounded black stones. It moved at a forced, calculated slowness, blending into the mid-day noise of the passersby so as not to arouse any suspicion.
Inside the suffocating darkness of the cabin, the carriage suddenly lurched and came to a violent halt, throwing Olivia's body forward. Through the narrow slit in the curtains, she caught sight of Roland's tall figure dismounting. He paused for a moment, fixing his cold gaze on a small shop at the end of the alleyways.
Before walking away, he approached the carriage window and tapped on its glass—framed in silver with his large signet ring—in slow, measured, ominous strokes. Olivia raised her head, her eyes glowing with silent hatred burned by fury.
Roland raised two fingers to his eyes, then pointed them directly at her face—a silent, explicit warning: *One move, and you will regret it.*
