"He didn't force your grandfather," her mother said.
Julianne sat on the edge of the mattress. She watched the older woman trace the rim of a porcelain teacup. Her mother’s thumb rubbed rhythmically against the knuckle of her index finger—a nervous tic she had spent her entire adulthood trying to break in herself. Seeing it mirrored now felt like a physical strike to the chest.
"Croft held the leverage," she pushed back, keeping her voice strictly modulated to mask the sudden ringing in her ears. "He dictated the terms."
"Croft executed the terms." Her mother set the cup down. The ceramic clicked sharply against the saucer. "But he didn't write the contract. Thirty years ago, when the seven families gathered to sign the Bloodbird protocol, your grandfather wasn't a hostage dragged to th
