Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 612 612: Authority, Spoken Softly

Authority, Spoken Softly

Wrong, every single one of you, Leon said, his lips edging into a quiet smirk that crept across like dusk falling. He didn't speak loud, just steady - no need to shout when certainty sits so close. To him it wasn't about fear, never was. What mattered showed in how he held himself, calm but sharp. The idea that he'd come here to take lives missed the point completely. Killing wasn't the goal, even if some assumed it was

Again, he moved ahead.

Footsteps whisper over rock. A quiet rhythm follows each step.

Measured.

Certain.

One step followed another, slow on purpose, like each was measuring how hard their hearts beat. Not a shout, just that steady tap, landing deep inside them instead of the floor. Eyes stayed locked there, pulled by rhythm more than sight. Rushing? Never crossed his mind. Power moved with him, not flashy, just certain, crowding the space until breathing felt heavier. Every pace inched the silence tighter.

A beat took its time, never stumbling, simply pressing down like it owned the ground beneath.

Each step made the walls creep inward. Iron bars shifted, almost breathing, while the roof lowered like a hand too heavy to shake off. From somewhere up high came drops of water tapping out a quiet rhythm, yet even that whisper vanished under what Leon brought with him. A lamp clung to the stone, its flame hesitating between staying lit or surrendering to shadows growing thicker by the second. Light wavered over his features, revealing something cold behind his stare - stillness laced with purpose, silence charged with knowing.

A lump moved down someone's throat. Chains clinked when a second person adjusted position, silence still holding strong across the group. Each shaky inhale caught his attention, plus how tension pulled at necks and eyes flickered sideways whenever they sensed him looking. His chin lifted just a fraction, like distant noise had reached his ears alone - then the corner of his mouth twitched, almost amused.

Quiet now, his words slipped out like silk. I don't mean to take your life, he told her, though the calm in his tone held something sharper than rage ever could.

He paused.

A slow look passed across the three bound killers, like they were some odd relic instead of men who'd gone after someone close to him. Not one showed calm - cracked mouths, old blood near their hairlines, rope-burned hands locked tight in metal. Leon stood still. Maybe he saw nothing. Worse possibility - he saw everything, then chose silence.

"And do you know why - "

A hush spread through the hall beyond the prison door. Not just stillness - this weighed heavy, filled the air like breath held too long. The silence got inside your head, made your teeth ache. Guards stood stiff, fingers tight on spear shafts, skin pale at the joints. A hush held everyone still. Not a foot moved, nor a breath deepened.

Moments passed before Leon spoke - too many to ignore. Not just quiet. A weight pressed down. It stung more with each breath he didn't take.

His head tipped sideways, followed by a quiet laugh that sounded faintly entertained.

"Don't think too much," he said, lifting a brow with lazy elegance. "Like I told you before - curiosity. Just pure curiosity."

A low growl snapped the quiet. Quiet gave way when a hoarse noise pushed through.

A grunt tore loose from the man at the right - short, rough. The noise tugged the chain fastened to his throat, its links rasping over rock with every shift of his body.

The metal dug deep where he twisted against it anyway. His gaze stayed low, heavy with something like old anger. Spoke slow through cracked lips, words rough but steady - no fear there, only the end of a long wait.

"Don't read into it, kid," he muttered. "We don't care. And now that you're done talking…"

A puff of air left through his nose, part disbelief, part tired release.

"Leave the prison. We want to sleep."

Back against the rough stone, he laughed through his nose, eyes rolling like Leon was just some pest who wouldn't leave.

"Yeah. You heard him. Go. We're tired. You got your little moment - now get outta here."

Frost filled the space where warmth should have lived. Stillness sat heavy on his words.

Just because it looks scary doesn't mean it can hurt you.

Just resignation.

The hush between steps of those who'd counted every moment, come up short.

Leon didn't move.

There he was, staring - no quick look, no judgment passing, just full attention fixed on them. Loose at his sides, his arms dangled without tension, calm like someone pausing mid-sentence. Yet something sharp lived in his gaze: a narrow flash of danger cutting through stillness, cold as an edge held above silence.

A shift came from Aden behind him - slight, barely more than a tilt of weight, yet it pulled at the silence like a loose thread. Not one guard broke the stillness with words. Silence held firm across every face. Tension thickened the air until breathing felt harder, as if the room had drawn its ribs too tight.

Finally, Leon turned his head just slightly, eyes moving over the men like they were objects set out in rows. Out came a breath, steady and quiet. He watched.

"Now listen."

This time his voice carried no gentleness.

Quiet it stayed, just the same.

Just… final.

A hush fell, heavy as a latch clicking shut. Slowly, each captive raised their gaze, pulled skyward by an unnamed pull they could not escape.

"I told you - I don't have time for games. I'm curious, that's all." Leon's fingers rose and tapped lightly against the bar, the faint metallic sound echoing in the silence. Tap. Tap. "Curious about you three. Curious why you'd risk your lives to go after Gary."

A gulp moved down the throat of the man in the center. A flicker ran through his fingers - like something hidden reacted first, before thought arrived. That motion froze almost at once. Still, a breath too late. Leon saw the shake.

Not quite stepping forward, he spoke softly, tone steady like a held breath.

"If you three are willing to tell me why you wanted Gary dead…"

A slow grin appeared - tight, sharp, risky. He showed it like a secret.

"…then maybe, just maybe, I'll give you a chance to kill him."

A silence came down, heavy as a held breath. The air near the door grew still - flame quieting, almost on purpose.

Silence came from the prisoners. No reply was necessary. A change crept through the air - like pressure dropping before a storm. Breathing turned thick. Gaze after gaze turned hard. The boldness they carried inside? Gone. Now tension sat where confidence once stood.

Interest.

Real interest.

A shift came over Leon's face before he stepped away, slow on purpose, leaving room like an open door. Space settled between them, quiet, while the thought took root - growing strange inside their heads.

Almost, he sensed it - pauses forming, quiet battles lighting up in their gaze. Not once did he push. The silence between them carried what needed saying.

Should you reconsider, speak to the guard at the door, he said, steady in tone yet carrying a faint sharpness beneath

A tiny motion sent them moving down the hall.

A slow drift, nearly indifferent, still held the weight of steel pulled free.

"Because I'm going. I have too many tasks to waste my time waiting for you three to decide whether your pride is louder than your reason."

A quiet voice spoke. Not loud, never raised. Truth came through - clear, without warning. His lips curved slightly, yet something stayed cold behind the gesture.

A flicker crossed the middle man's mouth. Almost not there. Like something slipped out before he could stop it.

A shadow crossed his face - irritation, perhaps curiosity, or just uncertainty - before vanishing behind a blank stare. Then silence filled the space where expression had been.

Funny thing - Leon saw it too.

Every time, without fail. The tiny fractures showed exactly where he needed to hit.

Still facing them, his gaze held firm while his shoulders eased toward the door like smoke drifting sideways. The hint of a grin played near one lip - subtle, almost invisible, but sharp enough to stir discomfort. His posture suggested departure had already begun, even as his stare refused to let go.

That stare had a way of leaving men unsure - were they ignored, or slowly taken apart? Quiet moments stretched like shadows under its weight.

"Don't forget," he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to pull them closer without meaning to, "I offered you something. So if you want what I said… contact me."

Quiet strength showed without effort. There was no force because none was required.

He didn't need to push. The quiet sureness did it, steady as sunrise. A pause that spoke louder than words ever could.

Floating loose, the words held no weight. The danger sat right there. Not pleading for a reply, he simply knew they would track him down.

Off he went, feet moving without looking back.

Footsteps close behind, Aden matched pace without a word, yet his eyes kept drifting back - three figures crouched where they'd been left, shadows heavy on their shoulders. Only when Leon passed the archway did the guards shift forward, leather soles whispering against stone, hands already reaching for the iron latch.

Quiet filled the cell… voices stayed silent among the killers.

Didn't laugh.

Still didn't say anything rude. Not a second time.

The way Leon's shadow stretched thinner down the hall stayed with them - pulled apart by flickering firelight, the sound of metal tapping softly fading away. A muscle jumped in one man's cheek. Someone else pressed palms hard against their thighs. Nobody spoke. Silence held on.

He turned. The door closed by itself. Behind him now silent.

Heavy metal blocks the way. Iron stands cold, wide, solid in front.

Thick.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

A heavy noise crashed into the tunnel, its echo stretching out as if sealing a fate. The sound dropped low, filling every crack beneath the ground.

Darkness returned to the room, slow at first, then swallowing everything again.

Darkness crept in as the flame's reach shrank between the iron gaps.

The sun stretched the dark shapes once more.

A silence hung heavy as the trio stayed frozen, eyes fixed on blank walls. Each mind caught in a loop, tracing what Leon had said. Moments stretched without sound, thoughts circling like wind through an empty hall.

That sound hung on, faint yet cutting, almost like steel held close before being slipped back. One heard blame in it, another sensed a vow, someone else felt danger - each took something separate, though nobody walked free.

A hush settled back into the room, slow and watchful. It hung there like it was listening.

The weight pushed into their ears, then down along their ribs, till breaths echoed like shouts. High overhead, the stronghold groaned - shifting slowly, much like some vast creature sinking deeper into slumber, paying no mind to the tiny lives tucked below.

Footsteps echoed far off, guards changed posts, a quiet pulse ran through the stone keep beneath dark heavens. Yet within the prison room, seconds stood still.

His fingers jumped like words stuck in his throat. Leaning into the chill of rock, one man held himself still, mind locked behind clenched teeth. Down where the dust lay thick, another drew shapes only he could follow - footsteps leading nowhere.

A hush broke loose from a throat. Loud it rang, where silence sat. Bare. Unfiltered.

No one claimed it.

For a second their eyes met, almost by accident.

A look passed between them. Not even a full nod - just the ghost of one. Their stiff postures spoke louder than words ever could.

A glance held just too long, then broke. Through that quiet exchange rushed guilt - close behind came fear - and beneath it all, a spark of anger, unspoken yet clear. Moments ticked by like nothing had happened.

Pressed into memory - hasty decisions, promises undone without effort, scenes they'd run through their minds forever, given even one opening. Not only chains and walls held them, yet the burden each carried inside slowed them more. Thoughts like anchors, dragging deep beneath what eyes could see.

Not speaking.

Not moving.

Just… thinking.

Thinking like that usually came when men faced something they'd ignored - and there it was once more, unavoidable.

Questions that cut too deep. Ones needing replies people would rather run from.

Folded into night, they vanished without a trace.