Viper stood beside him, answering his father with calm assurance, nodding at the right moments, letting Elias feel clever for remembering names and places—charming him without effort.
And his mother—his mother—had gone quiet.
Truly quiet. Not plotting. Not circling.
Just… done.
Titus swallowed, the weight of it hitting all at once.
He’d been waiting for the moment his family would come for him again.
Instead, they were stepping back.
For the first time, the Harrington name didn’t feel like a shadow behind him.
He’d spent years bracing for her, shrinking around her, waiting for the hook. And Viper had shut her down with a hand at his back and a sentence spoken like fact.
For the first time he could remember, the space around him felt clear.
Protected.
And his parents—both of them—were just people in a room he no longer had to survive.
They didn’t announce their exit.
They didn’t have to.
Titus moved at his side, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. As he lifted his hand, the ring caught the chandelier light—a muted glint of platinum and deep green—and Viper felt a brief flash of satisfaction.
His hand settled again at Titus’s back as they moved through the crowd.
That was all it took.
The room shifted.
It started at the edges—conversations thinning, heads turning, bodies angling aside as if pulled by a tide instead of intent. Viper felt it more than he saw it: the instinctive recalibration of a room that recognized power and made space for it.
Old money knew the scent of itself.
Command knew command.
A whisper ran through the room. Not names—those came later—but recognition. A knowing pause. Wealth meeting authority and stepping back without being told.
Security peeled doors open before they reached them. Cold night air spilled in, sharp and clean, breaking the spell.
The limo waited at the curb, black paint swallowing the light, engine idling like it had nowhere else to be.
Viper didn’t look back.
He’d left Vale, Syx, Law, Memphis, Sage, Ocean, and Aspen behind to work the party—faces, players, exits. Hale tagged the second he made a move.
He guided Titus in first, one hand remaining at the small of his back—possessive.
Unmistakable. Certain.
The limo door closed with a muted thud, sealing them into quiet.
For a beat, neither of them spoke. The city slid past the tinted windows in streaks of gold and shadow. Viper loosened his tie and collar, then exhaled once. He felt the moment Titus shifted beside him, the subtle movement of a man finally out of eyeshot.
