Drake POV
I watched Marcus like a man watching a war being planned in his brother's eyes — slow, deadly, and inevitable. The way he clenched his jaw, the way his fingers flexed, the almost-pained calm told me everything I needed to know: Marcus's history had calcified into prejudice. Nightshade. Murderer. Maria. None of my words could refund the past or convince him that Rose wasn't the monster his grief had carved out of memory.
Fine.
If Marcus wouldn't stand with me—if the last family he had left would rather bury the woman who might save us than risk the wrath of his brother—then I'd stop asking for permission. I've never been a man of half-measures. Either I step into the fire, or I let Lucius drag her into it and call it inevitable.
So I made a decision right there in that stale office, with the scent of old blood and stale coffee thick in the air. I'm going after Lucius on my own.
