Dad chews his toast, oblivious to the war that’s begun under his roof. Dominic moves through the kitchen like glass—careful, deliberate. He doesn’t look at me, but once, when Dad puts down his cup, their eyes meet and something like age-old loyalty passes between them. Dominic’s face softens, just for a heartbeat, then a mask slides back over it.
I watch him and I realize I don’t know the full extent of what he’ll do. I’ve been in his life long enough to know he keeps debts like coals. He burns them down when he has to.
That afternoon he disappears for hours. When he comes back, there’s a change in him—less animal-hungry, more tactical. He sits me down in the living room and holds my hands like a general briefing a soldier.
“I handled Tyler,” he says. “He’s scared enough to keep his mou
