Damian's P.O.V.
I woke to the sound of Kiera’s voice, sharp and furious, slicing through the peaceful night like a blade.
"Damian, come throw your brother out before I kill him!"
Adrenaline surged through me as I bolted from bed, barely registering the chill of the room as I grabbed my nearest weapon—a dagger from the bedside table—and stormed down the hall.
The scene before me stopped me cold.
Kiera stood rigid, seething, fists clenched at her sides. Her body was angled protectively in front of Caelum’s crib, where my son should have been sleeping.
But he wasn’t alone.
Silas held him, rocking him gently in his arms like he belonged there. Like he had any right.
My fingers tightened around the dagger. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Silas looked up, his expression unreadable.
