Ezra didn’t move.
He stood rigid, his grip firm on his sword, golden eyes locked onto his brother with a stillness that sent a ripple of unease through the air. But Caroline knew him well enough now to see what lay beneath the calm—the storm raging just beneath the surface.
Marcus had struck deep, not with steel but with words. And he had done it with surgical precision.
Caroline’s hands curled into fists at her sides. The air around her felt heavier, like the remnants of the Nexo still lingered, twisting the edges of reality just enough to make her heart pound.
The people in the streets, the ones watching from their doorways, from the cracked windows and shadowed alleys, did not cry out for help. They did not move to flee. They stood silent, waiting.
Loyal.
Marcus was right.
This w
