Brennan stays planted just inside the doorway with his arms crossed, his presence deliberate.
Adrian brings one of his men with him whose eyes never stop scanning the surroundings.
Adrian’s gaze flicks briefly toward the hallway, then back to me. He studies my face like he’s searching for something—a crack he’s hoping to pry open—but I won’t let it show.
“Now we can talk without distractions,” I say.
I catch Brennan shifting his weight, and I shoot him a look to remind him to be quiet.
“You don’t get to dictate the tone in this house, not when you come in all guns blazing. You’re lucky you’re even able to sit in a fucking chair.”
Adrian’s mouth curves into a smile, but there’s no amusement in his gray eyes. “Let’s not confuse restraint with submission.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms flat on the table. “You rammed my gates and sent armed men into my home. The home where my son sleeps.”
“And yet,” Adrian counters, his voice steady. “He wasn’t harmed.”
“That’s not the bar. That’s the bare fucking minimum.”
His eyes harden just a fraction. “You think this ends with me backing off? You think today was about fear?”
“It was about leverage. And it failed.”
Adrian exhales slowly, steepling his fingers. “Everything is leverage. Including you not pulling the trigger when you had the chance.”
Brennan lets out a low laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. You weren’t spared out of mercy.”
Adrian doesn’t look at him. “No. I was spared because Cormac is a father first.”
I don’t react. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“You murdered Nadia,” I cut straight through the posturing. “You murdered your own daughter, and you want me to believe you won’t do the same to her son?”
The room goes very still.
Adrian’s jaw tightens, his control slipping just enough for the truth to show. “I lost my daughter.”
“Youkilledher.”
“I was angry,” he snaps, but he quickly catches himself, his breath hitching. “She betrayed the family. She betrayed me.”
“She was scared. She ran because she knew what you were capable of.”
“Do you think I don’t hear her voice when I close my eyes?”
“That’s not repentance,” I growl. “That’s guilt.”
“And guilt is what keeps me from making the same mistake twice.”
Brennan steps forward a fraction. “You don’t get to frame murder as a learning experience.”
Adrian finally looks at him then, his eyes sharp. “And you don’t get to pretend this world runs on clean hands. Every man in this room has blood on them.”
Silence stretches between us until I’m the one to break it. “People like you don’t change.”
“People like me don’t get second chances. And yet, here I am.”
“You don’t get any authority over my son, do you hear me?”
