The shift in Demetri was immediate and absolute. The man who had been pacing with frantic energy just hours before was now a statue of cold, focused intent. The bleeding knuckles were cleaned and wrapped with clinical efficiency, the disheveled hair smoothed back. The Demon was not just back; he was fully unleashed, and the target was clear.
He led Nora not to the bedroom, but back to the war room conference area. The smart screen glowed to life, but this time, it wasn't displaying corporate structures. It showed a web of connections, photographs, and locations centered around a single, beautiful face: Liliana Markov.
"This is no longer about defense," Demetri stated, his voice a low, resonant command that brooked no argument. "She has escalated. We respond in kind. You wanted in? You're
