Draven’s POV
I paced the length of my study, each footfall landing heavy against the cold stone floor, echoing like a ticking clock counting down to disaster. I have called Kael four times. Four. And the boy hadn’t answered once.
It wasn’t the first time. Lately, he’d been dodging me with the petulance of a teenager and the defiance of his bloodline.
I stared down at the lifeless screen of my phone, irritation crawling beneath my skin like ants under glass.
Typical.
Stubbornness flowed through his veins like venom, his grandfather’s legacy. The devil himself.
But I didn’t have time for Kael’s tantrums. Not tonight. Not with everything unraveling before me like a thread soaked in blood, dragging secrets behind it.
I turned on my heel, the tails of my coat swishing softly. The fire in
