Lucian turned first. His face was a mask I’d never seen before, controlled and completely absent of the man who’d held me before. His gray eyes, always shot through with gold when he looked at me, were dull.
They were the eyes of a king.
Percival still hadn’t looked up. His hands were clasped between his knees, knuckles white, and the stillness of him was wrong.
“Lucian.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “What’s happening?”
He crossed the room and took my hands. His were trembling.
“We can’t do this anymore, Mira.”
No preamble, no cushion. Just the blade, presented handle-first, as if he expected me to admire the craftsmanship before it gutted me.
“Can’t do what?” I held his hands tighter. “What are you talking about?”
“This. The bond. Us.” His jaw worked once. “It was a mistake.”
The word cracked through the room.
“A mistake,” I repeated. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“We’re correcting an error that should have never happened.”
I yanked my hands back. “An error. That’s what I am?”
“Your father is a hunter, Mira.”
The sentence came from Solomon.
“What?” I turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“The symbol on his wrist. It’s the mark of the Order of the Silver Dawn, the organization that burned our kind. Your father belongs to them.” Solomon’s pale eyes held mine with a cruelty that felt personal. “He didn’t come here for you. He came here for us. And you led him right to our door.”
“That’s insane.” My voice pitched higher. “He’s my father! He came because he wanted to find me.”
“He used you.” No hesitation, no room for argument. “Everything from the start, him showing up, the timing, all of it was a strategy. And you were the access point.”
“You’re wrong. You don’t even know him.”
“I know his bloodline.” Solomon stepped forward. “I know what that mark represents and what the people who wear it have done to mine. That blood runs in your veins, Mira. His blood. And now it sits inside our bond.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re disgusted by me.” The words came out hollow. “That’s what this is.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Percival.” My voice pitched toward the chair, desperate. Searching for the one person in this room who always had a grin that promised everything would be fine. “Percy, come on. Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me you don’t believe this.”
He didn’t look up. His jaw worked once, fingers laced tighter between his knees.
He said nothing.
“Percy, please.” I hated the way my voice cracked.
His shoulders flinched. A micro-movement, there and gone. But his head stayed down, his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet, as if I was a problem he could solve by not looking at it.
“He agrees with the decision.” Solomon’s voice again. “We all do.”
