CH.125

Killian's hands flew up to his throat in a frantic, instinctive motion. His fingers clawed desperately, trying to pry off the unseen, malevolent force that was gradually crushing his windpipe.

His eyes bulged in their sockets, looking wild with terror as his face rapidly took on a deeply alarming shade.

Harsh, ragged wheezes were the only sounds he could force out. Each one sounded more labored than the last while his body suddenly rose from his seat and was suspended several feet in the air by the same power.

A black miasma began swirling around Killian's struggling form. Tendrils of mist coiled tightly around his limbs and torso, restraining him while they sapped away his strength.

The lavish dining room had fallen into a shocked, breathless hush. Every eye was fixed in stunned horror on the dreadful scene playing out before them.

Crystal glasses trembled on the table, their contents rippling furiously as if in sympathy with Killian's plight.

The adorned chandeliers swayed ever so slightly, illuminating the gathered faces frozen in disbelief and revulsion.

Killian's chest heaved spasmodically with his muscles straining visibly beneath his sweat-soaked shirt as he fought with every fiber of his being for even the shallowest of breaths. But it was no use. Nothing anyone could do would dislodge the malicious force that had decided to make short work of him.

The very air seemed to thicken and congeal around his suspended form as if reality itself were bending to Knox's implacable will.

Serena's eyes were wide. Her vivid emerald irises practically glowed with fear as she turned to look at Knox.

She didn't need to be a witch to know in her very bones that this atrocity was entirely his doing.

The man hadn't twitched a muscle. His posture remained relaxed and almost bored as he observed Killian's torment. Yet, the sheer intensity blazing in his eyes and the cruel satisfaction dancing in their depths spoke volumes about the otherworldly power he commanded.

President Bolting sat frozen in his seat with a mirror image of the same gut-punched horror etched across his features.

Every paternal instinct screamed at him to surge out of his chair, grab his little girl, and get as far away from this waking nightmare as humanly possible.

His heart thundered in his chest. Adrenaline surged through his veins as fight-or-flight instincts warred within him.

He finally lurched upright with his desperate arm outstretched towards his daughter. However, his flailing hand simply swung through empty air. It was as if some invisible force had already anticipated his move, snatching Serena away from him and depositing her safely next to Knox before he could blink.

The older man’s impotence in the face of such power left him reeling.

Meanwhile, Seven shook his head slowly from where he sat. There was an air of resignation and bitter expectation about him.

His face was one of sorrow, having seen this precise scenario play out in his mind countless times before.

As much as he had repeatedly warned the reckless fool to keep that smart mouth of his firmly shut lest he provoke Knox's wrath, he knew this moment was inevitable.

He knew Killian's flagrant disrespect and crude teasing… always pushing every button and boundary, would be the death of him one day if he didn't learn some humility. Now it seemed that day had finally come, and only divine intervention or the grace of some higher power could possibly hope to save Killian's sorry ass from the consequences of his own foolishness.

The air in the cavernous dining room seemed to grow thicker and more suffocating by the second as Killian's struggles intensified.

Serena could have sworn she saw faint streaks of smoke rising from his reddened skin, specks of gray vapor curling upwards as if his very blood were boiling from the inside out.

The agonizing effects of the deadly energy were clearly ravaging him from the inside in the most excruciating way imaginable.

Serena had witnessed her fair share of violence and brutality in her relatively short life and had seen true suffering and depravity up close since her time in the spotlight. But she had never seen such an exquisite, harrowing vision of pure, unbridled agony as the one unfolding before her.

She could practically feel the essence of life itself being leeched away from Killian's weakening form with each arduous second that ticked by, his struggles growing more feeble and pitiful.

Some deep, primal part of her knew she needed to do something - anything - to bring Knox out of this before it went too far, before he allowed his merciless action to extinguish another life so callously.

‘But how?’