Vorath rises from behind his desk, and his face twists into an expression I have never witnessed on his features when they shift to Maeve. Disgust. Contempt. The hatred of a male who cannot comprehend that his plans have failed because he misunderstood what he was fighting.
“You threw away everything for that?” The words drip with venom that lands on armor now, not flesh. “A human debt-slave? A nothing?”
I do not respond. Let him talk. Let him damn himself with every word.
“She's made you pathetic. Weak. Everything I tried to prevent, she undid in a matter of days.” His words escalate, volume rising. “I gave you every advantage. Made you into the weaponthis House needed. And you squandered it for a female who will be dead in sixty years while you're still in your prime.”
Maeve stands at my shoulder, and I do not need to look at her to be certain she has not flinched.
“She's a whore.” Vorath spits the word as though it burns his tongue. “A parasite. A disease that's infected my heir and destroyed everything I built. You would have been Lord of House Draven, the most feared enforcer in the Syndicate, and instead you’re the fool who ruined everything for a human cunt.”
He hasn't stopped his vitriol when I'm across the room, too fast for my human Chosen to track. My fist connects with my father's face, all the beatings and the lessons and the cruelty compressed into a single moment of violence that changes everything.
Vorath staggers. Falls. Lands hard on the polished floor of the office he has ruled from for longer than I have been alive.
His black eyes stare up at me with genuine shock. Not pain, though the pain will come. Not anger, though that will follow. Shock. He never believed I would strike him. Never imagined that the weapon he forged could turn against the hand that wielded it. And now he understands what I have understood since I woke to find her gone: I am stronger than him.
Physically. Simply. Undeniably. The son has surpassed the father in the one arena that should have remained his forever. He made me into this, and I have outgrown him. “You will never speak of my Chosen again. You are not worthy. She is everything.”
Vorath tries to rise, and I let him reach his knees before I speak again.
“Take him to the tunnels. Put him where he put my Chosen.”
The guards who have been waiting at the office door move forward. New guards. Males who chose to follow. They grip my father's arms and haul him upright, and the curses that spillfrom his mouth carry none of the weight they would have carried yesterday.
“You would cage your own father?” Vorath's words have gone hoarse, rage stripping away the control that has always defined him. “You would treat your blood like a common prisoner?”
“You caged my Chosen. You will experience what you inflicted.”
“The bars will need repair first.” A pause, and I let the silence stretch until his expression shifts with understanding. “I damaged them getting her out. Put him in the holding cells while I make the arrangements.”
His face goes pale. Not white, because Draveki skin does not pale that way, but ashen. The color of a male who has grasped what stands before him.
I tore metal apart with my bare hands to reach her. I would have torn through stone. Through steel. I would have torn through anything my father placed between us because his cruelty cannot cage, control, or destroy what we have become together.
“This is weakness.” Vorath makes one last attempt to regain control. “A true Lord would kill me. End the threat. You're proving everything I said about sentiment.”
“You don't understand strength. You never did.” I step close enough that he can see the silver of my eyes dilated, pupils contracted to slits. “Strength isn't making people fear you. It's making them choose you.”
He tries to respond, and I continue over whatever he meant to say. I don't want to hear it and now I don't have to.
“I want you alive. I want you to watch how a real House is run. To see your people thrive because they want to be here, not because they're terrified to leave. That will make us the strongest House on the planet.” I let the words land before I deliver the final blow. “Your legacy isn't death, Father. It's irrelevance.”
Vorath struggles against the guards' grip but they hold him tight. He can't break his way free. He's weaker than I thought. His curses echo through the office, promises of vengeance and threats of consequences that will never come to pass. I don't watch him go. He no longer deserves my attention.
“Samai.” I turn to my brother, who has watched the confrontation in silence. “Make sure he's secure.”
Samai moves toward the door, his gaze holding mine across a silence that stretches between heartbeats. All the years of resentment and love is in that look, and beneath that, gratitude. For trusting him with this. For including him in the rebuilding rather than casting him aside the way our father would have.
“And Samai.” I let the silence hold before I finish. “Thank you.”
His expression flickers and I see the little brother who screamed when their mother died and has tried to matter ever since.
“Teshra and Morath.” I turn to face my brother before he reaches the door. “Were they involved?”
Samai shakes his head. “Morath suspected nothing. He's been running the pharmaceutical division exactly as Father instructed, never questioning why certain compounds were requisitioned.” His mouth twists. “Teshra refused to participate when Vezra approached her. That's why Father had her removed from sensitive areas three months ago. He framed it as a routine reassignment.”
Teshra protected her loyalty to me by saying nothing, and my father punished her for it in ways I never noticed.
