I slid into the driver’s seat myself, ignoring Samson’s look when I shut the door and turned the ignition. “You’re not driving tonight?” he muttered, but I didn’t answer. My hands were already tightening on the wheel, the growl of the engine feeding the chaos in my chest.
The gates parted before me, iron teeth opening to spill me out onto the city streets. I drove like a man being chased, recklessand fast, weaving through the traffic with one thought pounding in my head.
Roman would have answers. He’d found a way to keep his head when Layla had carried Aleksander. He’d managed not to tear the city down brick by brick even though I knew the urge had burned him alive, same as it did me now.
How did he do it? How did he walk the razor edge between predator and protector without losing himself?
Streetlights flashed like blades across my windshield, the city a blur around me. My chest was tight, my grip white-knuckled on the wheel. I could hear Sorcha’s laugh from earlier, faint, the memory enough to make the rage twist into something else…terror.
She was too fragile for this world. Too human for what I was. And yet she was mine, carrying something more precious than anything I’d ever touched.
How do you not lose your mind knowing one mistake, one shadow, one breath too late, could take it all away?
That was the question I would demand of my brother before the night was over.
His mansion was already alive when I stepped inside. Guards at attention, the faint cries of Aleksander echoing down the hall before Layla soothed him. It hit me like a punch, family. His family. Mine too, though I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
I found him in his study, leaning over a map strewn with pins and red markings. He didn’t look up until the door shut behind me. His eyes met mine and for the first time since I’d known him, I didn’t try to hide the storm inside me.
“How?” I rasped.
His brow furrowed. “How what?”
“How did you do it?” My fists curled at my sides. “When Layla was carrying Aleksander. How did you keep your head? How did you not tear the world apart with the thought of something touching them?”
Roman leaned back in his chair, the faintest smile ghosting his mouth. Not amusement, but recognition.
“I didn’t keep my head,” he said quietly. “I lost it. Over and over until I nearly burned down this fucking city every time, she left my sight. But I learned.”
My jaw locked. “Learned what?”
“That locking her down, smothering her, treating her like glass, it only made her fight harder. It made her afraid of me instead of the things outside our walls. And that’s not what you want, Lucien. You don’t want her fear. You want her trust.”
I sank into the chair opposite him, my chest tight. “I can’t lose her, and I can’t lose the baby. I’ll gut everyone that tries to take them away before I let that happen.”
“I know.” His eyes sharpened, the predator in him surfacing. “And you should. We make war on anyone who threatens what’s ours. But inside your walls? You give her space to breathe. You let her live. If you don’t, the bond will suffocate her and you. And then you’ll both drown in it.”
I swallowed hard, the words hitting deeper than I wanted to admit. “And if the demons…”
“They won’t,” Roman cut in. “Not while we’re standing. Not while Draugr bleeds for us, not while Viking burns every dealthat crosses us, not while Volken is five moves ahead. And not while you and I are willing to kill the whole goddamn world for the ones we love.”
For the first time in days, the fire inside me eased. Not gone, never gone but it was tempered. Roman always had a way of doing that.
“You’ll see it,” he said, softer now. “That she doesn’t need you to be a cage. She needs you to be the shield. The sword. The storm outside that keeps her world inside steady.”
I nodded once, the tension in my chest shifting. “Thank you, brother.”
“Anytime.” He gave me a look that said he meant it, the kind of look Roman didn’t give lightly. “Now go home. She needs you more than I do tonight.”
I turned to leave, the heaviness in me eased if only a fraction, but his voice stopped me at the door.
“And Lucien…”
I glanced back, finding his eyes steady on mine, a rare smile tugging at his mouth. “Congratulations, brother. You will be a great father.”
The words hit harder than any counsel he’d given. Roman didn’t waste praise. He didn’t hand it out to soothe or flatter, he never had. Everything he spoke carried the weight of blood and truth. And I respected that above all else.
Roman had always been more than a brother. He was the eldest, the one who carried the mantle of leader when none of us were ready. He’d been the storm wall, the shield, the one who bled sowe didn’t have to. He’d shaped us into the Blood Mafia, kept us alive and carved our empire out of steel and ash.
