Rex POV
Lucas's office still smells like him. Old leather. Ink. The faint trace of pipe tobacco.
I move through his belongings methodically. Papers. Books. A silver pocket watch that stopped at the moment of his death.
Murder. Not suicide.
Someone wanted him silenced. Someone close enough to stage it perfectly.
My fingers trace the edge of his desk. He was loyal. Served my father before me. And now he's dead because—
Pain.
Sudden. Blinding. Absolute.
It erupts in my chest like molten iron poured directly into my veins.
I stagger. Grab the desk. My knees buckle.
'What—'
The dragon roars.
Not the usual growl. Not the familiar push against my control.
This is different. Violent. Primal. Like something ancient waking up starving.
Fire races through every nerve. My spine arches. B
