The words dropped into the room like rebel bodies on the platform. Shadera’s head snapped toward him, disbelief freezing her in place.What the fuck is he doing?
Maximus went very still. “You killed them,” he repeated slowly. “All eight?”
“Yes.” Greyson’s voice was flat, emotionless. The Executioner’s voice.
“Alone?” The question carried a dangerous edge.
“Alone.”
He was protecting her.
Maximus leaned back in his chair, the golden mask sending sparkling prisms dancing over his desk. “Strange. My sources tell me two people engaged in a fight. Not one.”
“Your sources are mistaken,” Greyson replied evenly.
“And you dispatched eight trained Veyra officers by yourself?” Skepticism dripped from every word.
“Your training served me well,Father.” Greyson’s voice took on a cruel edge that matched his father’s. “Or have you forgotten the lessons you so enjoyed teaching me?”
The jab landed. Shadera could see it in the subtle tensing of Maximus’s shoulders, the slight curl of his fingers against the polished surface of his desk.
“You admit to killing these Veyra officers,” Maximus said after a moment, each word measured. “Do you understand what that means, Greyson? Even for the Executioner, even for my son, that is treason. Treason is punishable by death.”
“They broke into my home, threatened my fiancée,” Greyson responded, his tone remaining steady. “I was protecting what’s mine.”
Mine.
The word sent a jolt through Shadera, but she kept her reaction hidden, understanding what he was doing. Playing the role his father expected—the entitled heir defending his territory, his possession.
“What’s yours,” Maximus repeated, his attention shifting to Shadera. She could feel his gaze traveling over her face, her body, assessing and calculating in a way that made her skin crawl. “Interesting how protective you’ve become of a woman sent to kill you.”
“She’s as good as my wife now.” Greyson’s hand moved to rest on her thigh, the gesture casual but deliberate. A claim. “Entering myapartment without permission was foolish. I suspected they might be rescuers sent for her. I acted accordingly.”
Maximus was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice carried a new edge. “Perhaps I should bring your sister in for questioning, she seems to be privy to the inner workings of your life. I understand she and Callum Thane were at your apartment early this morning.”
Shadera felt Greyson’s body tense, his fingers flexing against her thigh at the mention of Lira. One wrong word, one wrong move, could kill them all. She reached for his hand, her fingers wrapping around it and squeezing.
“The Vow ceremony is in two days,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm, even as her heart thundered in her chest. “Callum and Lira arrived to help us prepare. Greyson took me into the Heart last night to celebrate. I . . . got carried away with the drinking.”
Greyson’s hand turned in hers, his fingers interlacing with her own. He understood what she was doing, was playing along.
“Callum offered to adjust the security to give us privacy,” she continued, the lie flowing easily. “So we could truly get to know each other before the ceremony.”
Maximus’s gaze dropped to their intertwined hands, and a low laugh bubbled from behind his mask. “How touching.” The words dripped condescension. “The mercenary and the Executioner, finding common ground.”
His attention shifted back to Greyson. “You have always been reckless, my son. Impulsive. Quick to anger. Last night was yet another example of that.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. “It is why I have never fully trusted you with the Heart’s future.”
“I’ve never wanted your trust,” Greyson said, his voice still measured despite the facade of calm slipping. “Or your future.”
“And yet here you are,” Maximus countered, gesturing to the room around them, to the city beyond the windows. “Playing your part. Taking the Vow. Fulfilling your duty to the Heart, to our family.”
Greyson’s grip tightened around Shadera’s hand, his anger trapped between their palms.
“Given the circumstances,” Maximus continued, his tone shifting to something that mimicked regret, “I’m afraid I must insist on certain precautions until the ceremony.”
“What precautions?” Greyson asked, wariness evident in the sharpening of his voice.
“Since you are so desperate to get to know one another, you will be quarantined until the Vow. No outside communication. No visitors.” Maximus’s fingers steepled in front of his golden face. “For your protection, of course.”
