Throne Brothers, Ride Home 3:50 p.m. Monday…
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The door slammed s.hut. The engine purred. Silence stretched. Victor sat in the front. One leg kicked up on the dash. Sunglasses low. Brows were drawn so tight that it looked like he hadn’t unclenched them since morning. Dorian drove. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Knuckles white. Jaw sharp as the last curb they rounded. And in the backseat? Onyx was jolting, practically glowing. He was so high on adrenaline and obsession it was a miracle the windows hadn’t shattered from his energy alone.
„Brothers…” He breathed, dragging the word like it tasted like smoke and holiness.
„Let me f.ucking tell you something. I am in love.” Victor didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared through the windshield like he was trying to exor
