“She matters.”
“To you, perhaps.”
The words were not a challenge. Rhen delivered them as an observation he had already decided to use.
Dax searched his face for some trace of contradiction and found none.
“You feel nothing for her.”
“For Veya?” Rhen’s mouth shifted with cold contempt. “No.”
The use of her name made the answer worse.
“Do not confuse my refusal to waste an asset with concern. She is alive because she may be useful, and she will remain alive for exactly as long as that continues to be true.”
Dax stepped closer.
“One day, she will understand what you did.”
“If she survives long enough to become useful, she may understand whatever she likes.”
The urge to strike him traveled through Dax with enough force to tighten every muscle in his body.
Rhen noticed.
He did not care.
“You brought her into this house,” Dax said. “You created the tether, and now you are handing the consequences to everyone else.”
“I am handing them to the brother who has already decided he wants them.”
Dax went still.
Rhen’s gaze moved briefly over his face, measuring the reaction with the same detached intelligence he brought to an enemy’s weakness.
“You want her,” Rhen said. “That makes her easier for you to manage.”
“She is not something to manage.”
“Everything is something to manage.”
The contempt in Dax’s expression deepened.
“And if she becomes useless?”
Rhen’s eyes did not change.
“Then she becomes expendable.”
Silence filled the training room beneath the faint hum of the lights and the slow creaking of the damaged bag.
Dax understood then that there was no hidden conflict inside Rhen regarding Veya. There was no dangerous attraction, suppressed tenderness, or fear of losing control around her.
Leena had been the exception.
Veya was a piece upon the board.
Rhen turned away.
