Dominic’s POV
Those walls were closing in, squeezing tighter every hour. It felt like I was getting crushed alive in a tomb lined with my father’s regrets. The fireplace kept spitting out noise, all crackle and pop, pretending it could melt the ice that’d taken root in my bones. I just sat there, hunkered in that ancient chair, knuckles going white on the armrests, nearly splitting the wood.
Why the hell, Dante? What are you playing at? I don't know what he needs to achieve by this when we literally have the kingdom. It belonged to us both.
Nobody ripped the throne away from me. Dad handed it over, dying breath and all, his voice shaking as he said, “Keep the pack safe. Lead them, Dominic. Dante’s at your back, but all this is yours.” I had clung to that, like some prayer. Figured my b
