The boat rocked gently against the dock.
No one spoke.
Victor stood a few feet away, water-dark night behind him, moonlight sharpening the lines of his face. He didn’t look like a man who had just escaped death.
He looked pleased.
Noah’s fingers were still wrapped around Lena’s hand.
Warm.
Steady.
Possessive.
Alex stepped subtly closer to her. Not touching. Not claiming.
Just near enough to shield.
Victor noticed.
“See?” he said softly to Noah. “Attachment.”
Noah didn’t look away from him. “You said it’s weakness.”
Victor smiled faintly. “It is. If you can’t cut it.”
The word cut seemed to echo over the lake.
Lena swallowed. “You’re not turning him into this.”
Victor’s gaze slid to her slowly.
“Into what?”
“A monster.”
Silence.
Then—
“Monsters are made,” Victor replied
