Page 300 of The Sacred Scar


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I stared at him—the man who used to hold my jaw gently when I looked away.

How did I ever feel safe in your arms.

Uncle Cole surged forward. “Are you threatening her family?”

“I’m stating reality,” Vincent said.

“Listen carefully. A Crow doesn’t make threats. A Crow makes outcomes.” Damius added.

“I don’t want—” The next words tore through my throat. “I don’t want you.”

The room froze.

It didn’t sound brave. It sounded like stepping off a cliff.

My father made a broken sound. “Maddy?—”

Uncle Zeke’s hand tightened on my chair as if he could hold me to the floor.

“You don’t get to want anything in this room,” Vincent eyes were locked with mine.

The way he said it somehow hurt more than the words.

I made the mistake of reaching for the ghost of the man I’d loved.

“Vince—“

“Miss Thorne.” His eyes cut to mine like a blade.

The title hit like a slap.

“I—” I swallowed. “Please. You can’t do this without destroying everything. My father—my uncles—my work?—”

His chair shifted a fraction, a movement that felt like a warning. “Keep speaking, and I’ll have you removed.”

My chest seized.

Removed. Like an inconvenience someone dragged out so men could finish business.

Damius watched me with quiet interest, as if measuring how quickly a woman learned what she was.

Nikolai slid a datapad toward my father. “We’ve wasted enough time. The clause regarding asset redirection remains. The wedding date will be confirmed after the crest appointment.”

“You’re taking everything,” my father whispered. His hands shook as he skimmed the page. “Everything I built—everything I protected—tied to her name?—”

“You tied it to her because you thought no one would touch her,” Vincent sighed as if he was bored of this topic. “You were wrong.”

My father flinched.

Uncle Zeke leaned forward again. “Then we have terms regarding heirs.”

Damius’ eyes narrowed slightly, bored with the loop.

Uncle Cole spoke anyway. “Six heirs is not happening. We want it reduced.”

“No,” Nikolai said.

“We want medical oversight,” Zeke snapped. “Control of timing, of frequency?—”