Yes. That was the justification.
It was also permission, dressed as codex.
Damius’ gaze stayed on me, heavy, searching for weakness he could use later. “And the Thornes. Marco’s assets are tied under his daughter’s name. What happens when she’s taken.”
Hesitation would look like compassion. Compassion got punished in this room.
“They collapse in Villain politics. Their leverage goes with her. Marco’s comfortable position here ends overnight.”
Damius nodded, satisfied at the brutality. “Good. He’s been too comfortable.”
Something sour twisted in my stomach. Respect wasn’t loyalty, but it still had weight. Marco wasn’t a fool. He’d built his dynasty carefully, kept his family alive in a world that ate daughters and called it tradition.
Madeline didn’t deserve to be used as a lever.
I kept all of it off my face.
Nik slid in a final hook. “And once she’s Crow, her heirs bind Thorne holdings permanently to us. The next generation of Thorne-Crow children are raised under our codex. Villain stays in Crow hands for another century. Minimum.”
Damius’ eyes gleamed at that—time. Future. A city still stamped with his legacy long after he was gone.
He reached for a leather folio, old crest pressed into wax, the kind kept for debts that outlived the men who owed them.
“The debt is real. Older than Marcellus would like sovereign families to remember.”
He didn’t hand it to us. He opened it, reading like he was savoring history.
“I’ll revoke it. Publicly.”
The statement hit with the clean force of law.
“Marcellus will receive notice within days. Thorne will know within the week. Rumor moves faster than courier in Villain,” Damius went on, pen already in his hand.
He pulled a sheet of thick paper from a drawer—crest watermark, codex formatting, and set it on the blotter like an execution order. He never used datapads when paper added to the theatre of it all.
“I will draft the merger paperwork. Codex-compliant. Nonnegotiable.” His pen moved, lines already forming. “The Thornes have no say. There will be blowback. Marco will request a formal sit-down. Marcellus will demand one. Humiliation turns pride into violence.”
His gaze slid to me, then to Nik.
“Nikolai will handle it. He speaks for the dynasty when diplomacy is required.”
“And when it isn’t?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“You speak,” he said. “As you always have.”
A reminder. A test dressed as logistics.
Damius rose and walked around the desk, stopping closer.
“Taking a wife isn’t symbolism for fun. It’s responsibility.” He held my gaze. “You take Thorne blood, you take what comes with it. Her place under our crest. And the heirs she gives you. They will carry my name further than I will live to see.”
The words had weight, even here.
“She will be the first Crow wife in Villain for this generation. The city will watch her. Sovereign families will measure her. Rivals will look for fractures.”
His eyes narrowed, sharpening into instruction.
“A wife must be made strong enough to hold Crow blood. Women aren’t born ready for us. They are shaped. Softness is part of that shaping when it’s done correctly.”
