Loyal followed. Quieter. Eyes scanning every inch of the room. Every bruise on my skin. Every breath between his brothers.
They didn’t speak to each other. Not right away. But something shifted in the room when they stood there. All four of them. All Lawlors.
I felt it in the air. In the way the silence stopped feeling empty and started feeling loaded. It was like watching a crown rebuild itself out of fire and blood.
Wolfe handed out the glasses. Barron took his without hesitation. Loyal nodded once and accepted it. Royal raised his with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
We stood in a room with no music, no laughter. Just breath. Just shadows. Just war. Wolfe lifted his glass.
“She came for us once.”
Barron answered:
“She’ll come again.”
Royal clicked his glass softly against Wolfe’s.
“Let her.”
Loyal was the last to speak. His voice was quiet. But it carried.
“We don’t fracture this time.”
Wolfe stared into the amber liquid like it was prophecy.
“Then we bury her.”
There was a pause. Not cold. Not hostile. Just full. Of memory. Of betrayal. Of something older than power.
Loyal stepped forward first. Raised his glass again.
“To the ones who remain.”
This time, when they drank, it wasn’t just strategy. It was blood.
I stood in the doorway, robe clutched tight around my body, and watched it happen. Not just the forming of a plan. The reformation of a kingdom.
Barron glanced over his shoulder at me. His expression unreadable. But his presence was loud.
You were worth staying for.
Royal looked me up and down. But for once, he didn’t speak. Loyal just gave me a nod. One I didn’t understand, but felt in my ribs.
And Wolfe? He didn’t look away. He let me see it. His fury. His promise. And something new. Not possession. But allegiance.
This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. Of something brutal. Of something righteous. Of war. And I would stay.
Not to survive.
But to build it with them.
A kingdom forged in silence.
And ruled in ruin.
28
CLOE
