The drawing room smelled of expensive tobacco and the stale, suffocating scent of a man who thought himself a god. Garrick made sure that when he was in a room, he wasn't simply inside, he occupied it. His booming laughter bounced off the dark, wood-paneled walls.
"Sit, Caden! Sit!" Garrick shouted, gesturing toward a leather chair when Caden stepped inside. He didn't wait for Caden to move before he slammed a heavy, calloused hand against his shoulder.
Every time Garrick’s hand touched him, a cold, familiar fire ignited in Caden’s blood. It was a physical revulsion, a sickness that started at the point of contact and spread.
He looked at Garrick’s flushed, triumphant face and saw the same man who had stood over his massacred family years ago. He wanted to rip the man's arm from his bod
