Cole’s shoulders dropped a little. Not relaxed, exactly, but like someone lifting a weight just to see if it was lighter than he thought.
“And the biggest thing,” Ignatius added, leaning back, “is that your father’s threats are empty.”
Cole flinched. “He…said he’d do things. To Phoenix. To my career.”
“Right,” Ignatius said. “Let’s address that.”
He held up one finger.
“One: if he tries to harm Phoenix, he will have three dragons, a full legal team, and the Dragon Council descending on him so fast he’ll think he summoned them.”
I froze. “Why?”
Ignatius leveled me with a look. “Mate privileges. Two: if he threatens your career?” A smile spread across his mouth. Slow. Predatory. “Then he destroyshimself.”
Cole frowned. “What do you mean?”
But I didn't hear most of it. I was still struggling with the wordmate. I'd heard it before but been a little busy at the time.
Ignatius steepled his fingers. “Cole. If you stop playing hockey…every business venture your father has collapses like a dying lung.”
Cole stared. “…a what?”
I winced. “Ignatius.”
Ignatius shrugged. “What? Accurate metaphor. Terrible image, but accurate.”
Cole didn’t laugh. Not exactly. But he did exhale—a shaky, incredulous sound that was close enough.
Ignatius softened again. “Cole, your father gets his power from you, not the other way around. The moment you walk away, his empire burns.”
“Tragic,” Isaid, sipping my coffee.
“Very tragic,” Ignatius echoed agreeably.
Cole looked down at our joined hands. Then at the folder. Then up at Ignatius. “I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted, his voice small but honest.
Ignatius stood, came around the table, and placed a warm, steady hand on Cole’s shoulder.
“We'll take it one step at a time,” he said. "You have help now."
Cole’s voice wobbled. “And if he tries again?”
Ignatius squeezed gently. “Then you’ll have protection. Legal. Magical. Personal.” He nodded at me. “And your mate.”
Cole went red.
I went redder.
Ignatius went back to his chair, unbothered, muttering, “And if Wells tries anything else, I swear to every dragon in the mountains, I’ll gift-wrap his business portfolio and mail it to the IRS.”
Cole actually laughed.
And for the first time since I'd seen him in that awful white room, Cole looked like someone who wasn’t cornered anymore. He looked like someone beginning to believe he had a future—one that belonged to him.
By the time the laughter faded, Cole looked like it had taken the last of his batteries with it.
The blanket had slipped off one shoulder. His hair was a mess, curls crushed where he’d leaned against the couch. There were shadows under his eyes deep enough to get lost in. He wasn’t just tired; he wasemptied out.
