The night was too quiet.
Luca had learned long ago that silence was never a blessing in their world it was a warning. And tonight, the warning wrapped itself around him like a noose as he patrolled the outer courtyard of The Iron Crown's newly fortified estate.
The air carried tension, static, something he couldn't name.
Something he hadn't felt since Damian vanished.
For weeks, he'd buried hope because hope had a habit of killing men like him.
But suddenly… he felt it.
A shift.
A presence.
A ghost brushing a hand across his shoulder.
Luca's hand fell to his gun cautiously.
"Who's there?"
A faint click of static answered him.
The earpiece in his right ear long silent, long useless flickered alive.
For a second, he thought he was hallucinating.
And then.
"Luca."
His blood froze.
There was only one voice in the entire world that carried that calm, lethal authority.
Only one man who could speak his name like a command, like a bond, like a promise.
