I’d seen his face on the floor of the penthouse. I’d seen the kind of ruin in his eyes that no crow heir training prepared you for. Our blood was built to carry anger. Mastering it was our life lesson.
He’dsnapped.
And I hadn’t stopped him.I should’ve stopped him.I alwaysfucking stopped him and he stopped me. One kept the other away from the edge.
“Fuck,” I turned from the car, pacing back toward the security exit. This was bad. Even for our standards.
I called Rome.
“Yeah?”
“I need you at the Storage Docks in ten. Cleanup. Quiet.”
He didn’t ask the details.
“Right. Sending ghost vans,”
The line went dead. And I was left alone in the lot again.
With ten dynasty corpses. A blood trail too loud to bury. And a brother who’d handed me a massacre in the shape of loyalty.
Chapter Forty-One
BASTION
The Crow Dynasty estate was built to remind you who owned you.
I hated the dynasty floor and the old man sitting at the top like it was still his kingdom. I only came here when I had to. Once a month. Mandatory. War room meetings. That was it. We never fucked up bad enough to be summoned to the dynasty level.
The elevator slid open and Rome was already there. He shifted one step closer as I stepped out. Shoulder brushed mine. No words. He didn’t need to say it.
If Damius wanted Luca executed for this, I’d make sure the execution was for two. My first breath was with him. My last would be too. I didn’t belong in this world without Luca.
We walked in silence past the portraits. The double black-oak doors were open, already waiting like a mouth.
And then I saw him.
Damius Crow.
Seated like a king, glass in his hand. He’d chosen one of the older chairs today—high back, carved arms. Signaling. Hedidn’t look up or motion for us to sit. Because this wasn’t a meeting.
This was the gallows.
“I hear there are ten bodies.” His voice was calm. That was the first warning. “Three of them heirs. Three different dynasties. Three trade corridors tangled in contracts I’m now expected to end without war.”
He finally looked at me.
“Do you know how many treaties those names held together?”
I didn’t answer. Because it wasn’t a question. It was the start of my sentence. With Damius, silence wasn’t defiance. It was survival. You waited until he asked what he actually wanted answered.
He stood. Took one slow step forward. The room moved with him—eyes in frames. Other Crow regions were watching.
“What happened.”
“Luca lost control,” I said. Not an apology.
Damius arched a brow. “And you didn’t know?”
