“The bullet fragmented. I need space and concentration,” DoctorKnowles added.
A tense silence seized the room, broken only by the steady beep of machines. Then his father’s footsteps retreated, followed by others.
Greyson felt a sharp prick in his arm, then warmth spreading through his veins. The doctor leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper.
“I know what you did in the Cardinal last month. The medical supplies that appeared in the clinic. I recognized the serial numbers. Thank you, you saved ten lives.”
Greyson tried to focus on the man’s face, but the drugs pulled his eyes closed. Then, the darkness swallowed him whole.
MaximusSerelstrodeintohis office in Haven Tower, the golden mask suffocating him. His jaw ground underneath it, using all his strength not to tear it from his face as Clay and Moraine Daunt followed behind him, their own masks perfect reflections of Heart tradition. Elara and Lira were already there, standing near the window, postures rigid and worried.
“This is outrageous!” Clay Daunt’s voice filled the room as the door closed behind them. “A Daggermouth in the Vow chamber! Your son removing his mask before that parasite!”
Maximus turned slowly, the weight of his gaze enough to make Clay step back.
He did not answer to this pathetic excuse for a man. Clay was weak, had always been weak. A stomach not strong enough to hold down his breakfast at the sight of an execution and brain too dull to be any use to the Heart.
The only thing he was good for was his money, and a breedable daughter that seemed to steal all of his spine at her conception.
“Your concern is noted,” he said, keeping each word measured.
“Noted?” Moraine’s voice cut in, sharper than her father’s. “This goes beyond concern, President Serel. I was promised the heir to the Heart and now your son has contaminated himself. His face has been seen by that . . . thatanimal.”
Maximus remained perfectly still, though his rage flared at her insolence. “Choose your next words carefully, Moraine.”
“The law is clear,” Clay interjected. “When one’s face is seen outside of the sacred bond of the Vow, their life is forfeit.Bothparties must be executed.”
Maximus clenched his fist then slowly unfurled his fingers, wishing he had a gun in his hand to shove it down Clay’s throat and pull the trigger. His methods, his power, had been questioned one too many times this week.
“Are you suggesting,” Maximus started softly, dangerously, “that my son—mylastliving heir—should be put to death for breaking a lawIcreated? In a city thatmyfamily built?”
If it were any other person, any other family name, Maximus would have put a bullet through their skull the moment they saw Greyson in the throne room maskless.
But it wasn’t.
A scandal like this could threaten what he had built, the lifetime of power he had accumulated. Maximus would not lose that power under any circumstance—toanylaw.
“The law—” Clay began again, his voice trembling now.
“Iamthe law!” Maximus roared, stepping so close to him that their masks nearly touched.
Clay’s posture wilted, his shoulders slumping as he took a half step back. Even behind his mask, his fear was palpable. Moraine stood still beside him, her silence more defiant than any words.
“If youeversuggest executing my son again,” Maximus continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to suck all oxygen from the room, “I will lift a single finger, and yourentirebloodline will disappear from the Heart’s memory. Do you understand me?”
Clay nodded stiffly, his eyes darting to his daughter.
“I did not hear you,” Maximus pressed.
“Yes, President Serel,” Clay managed. “Forgive my . . . presumption.”
Elara stepped forward, her movements cautious as she kept her eyes lowered to the floor and spoke. “There’s a loophole.”
All eyes turned to her. Maximus’s jaw tightened beneath his mask. “What did you say?”
Elara swallowed, straightening her spine. “When I drafted the mask law, I included provisions for extreme circumstances. Accidents. Cases where a mask might fall in another’s presence.
“In such cases, the parties have a choice: execution, or to take the Vow with each other, since they’ve seen each other’s faces.” Her hands clasped together, knuckles white. “We cannot prove Greyson willingly removed his mask. It could have fallen during the struggle.”
