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More deliberate.
Not for effect.
For dominance.
Tristan stills.
Just for a second.
Kane shifts slightly.
Taking it in.
Respect there.
Whether he wants it or not.
Isa goes quiet.
Her eyes narrowing slightly.
Because she knows.
What this means.
Tristan’s gaze sharpens.
“Has there been a test?”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
“DNA,” Tristan says, not looking at me. “You don’t just—show up.”
Before I can respond—Emmanuel answers.
“I don’t require validation.”
His voice doesn’t rise.
Doesn’t need to.
But the Spanish slips in under the English now.
Subtle.
Natural.
“Lo sé.”
(I know.)
Tristan doesn’t move.
Doesn’t back down.
“She’s been through enough?—”
