“If you’re quite finished—”
“Almost! Here’s the truly delicious part.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Every time you look at Aria, the urge will tear at you. Hands at her throat, dragging her close—you won’t know if it’s to kiss her or to end her. Love and hate, tangled so tightly they’ll rot your mind from the inside.”
“Kian.” My voice is pure ice now. “The Hollowmaw is parasitic. Too much emotional interference could splinter him completely.”
He sighs theatrically disappointed. “Fine. Clean and simple, then.” He presses two bloodied fingers beneath Dom’s jaw. “Listenclosely, boy. You’ll report every movement and secret she uncovers. Your job is to guide her tohim. And when she finds him?” His smile turns feral. “You will kill her. Not before—we need our darling compass functional until then. But the moment he’s in reach, carve her from the equation with your own hands.”
He pats Dom’s cheek, tenderly. “There now. Wasn’t that easy? Honestly, Alexander, you’re becoming quite the killjoy in your old age.”
Dom doesn’t respond. Not with words, but with the slow slip of tears, silent and involuntary, as the serum finishes its work.
And then his eyes open, but they are no longer gray.
They churn with obsidian and silver, twin storms crackling beneath the surface—lightning caught behind glass. His face twists, no longer human, a warped curve caught between smile and snarl. A look I’ve seen before on his father. On the monster who delights in breaking things.
For a heartbeat, there’s perfect stillness.
Then his restraints explode.
