Chapter 7

Adrian didn't give anyone time to react.

He walked out of the crowd, his leather shoes clicking against the stone courtyard floor, one step at a time, heading straight for Bourne.

The Montier family guards followed behind him, a dark, solid mass.

"Bourne Victor." His voice wasn't loud, but everyone in the courtyard heard him clearly. "I only have one question for you."

The smile froze on Bourne's face. The wine glass in his hand trembled slightly.

"What exactly does the Montier family heir mean to your Victor family?"

The moment those words landed, the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees.

Bourne's mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Adrian was already talking again.

"A burden? Some crazy woman you can just brush aside?"

Adrian's anger grew with every word. "Your own biological son killed someone while drunk, and you couldn't bear to let him face the consequences. You forced an adopted son to take the fall for him. Ten years, and you never visited him once."

The color drained from Bourne's face.

"And after he got out?" Adrian stepped forward. "The Count arranged a match, asking your family's son to marry my daughter. What was your first reaction? Push out this freshly released adopted son to spare your biological son from this so-called humiliation."

He pressed a finger against Bourne's chest. The force was light, but Bourne stumbled back half a step.

"Bourne Victor, tell me — in your eyes, is my daughter not even worth using as a dumping ground?"

Adrian's eyes narrowed, filled with cold fury.

The relatives in the courtyard began whispering to each other, and the looks they shot toward Bourne and Greya shifted into something different.

Adrian raised one finger. "I didn't come here to make things difficult for you. Promise me one thing, and I'll leave right now."

"Hand over the real killer — Hawk. Turn him over to the authorities. You owe Thorne that. You owe the law that."

The entire courtyard went silent for a few seconds.

Then Bourne laughed — an ugly, strained laugh.

"Mr. Montier," Bourne's voice wavered slightly, but he kept pushing through, "have you been deceived? Thorne has been a liar since he was a child. He—"

"Shut up." Adrian cut him off, cold and flat.

Bourne's eyes darted around. He decided to play the emotional card.

His shoulders sagged. The hardness on his face cracked apart, replaced by something that looked almost like pleading.

"Mr. Montier," Bourne's voice broke, trembling now, "please let me explain. What happened back then... yes, we were wrong. But we had no choice. Hawk is our only biological child. What parent could just watch their own child go to prison?"

His eyes even started to go red. His voice dropped lower. "We know we let Thorne down. We've felt terrible about it all these years..."

The words sounded genuine, and a few relatives who didn't know the full story actually looked moved.

But the whole time, Bourne's eyes were quietly watching Adrian's face from the corner of his eye.

Adrian's expression didn't shift at all.

Seeing that soft tactics weren't working, Bourne decided to go hard.

He snapped his head toward Thorne, pointing directly at him, his voice suddenly shooting up. "You! You devil! You curse!"

The whiplash was so fast it stunned everyone in the courtyard for a moment.

"Taking you in was the biggest mistake the Victor family ever made! From the day you walked through that door, this family never had a moment of peace!"

He got more and more worked up, spitting as he shouted. "Now you're out of prison, and instead of being grateful, you team up with outsiders to come after your own family? Have you no conscience?"

Greya started crying too, her voice sharp and piercing. "My poor Hawk! He never did anything! Thorne chose to go to prison himself! No one forced him! He's an ungrateful wretch — a stray dog that can never be tamed!"

She cried and pointed at Adrian. "You must have been put under some kind of spell by him! He has a devil inside him, do you know that? He's a monster!"

Thorne stood where he was and said nothing.

He watched the couple's performance with no expression on his face, like he was watching two clowns flailing around.

Daisy, standing nearby, tilted her head and looked at Greya wailing her heart out, then at Bourne's flushed, sputtering face. She suddenly clapped her hands and giggled. "Fighting... so fun..."

Nobody paid her any attention.

But one person was staring at her.

Hawk stood behind his parents, his gaze locked onto Daisy.

This was the first time he'd ever seen her up close.

He'd only heard that the Montier family's Daisy was out of her mind — that no matter how pretty she was, it didn't matter. But looking at her now, that clearly wasn't the whole story. Just that face, that figure — even standing there clapping like a fool, she was beautiful enough that you couldn't look away.

Hawk's throat moved.

This woman was supposed to have been his wife.

If his parents hadn't pushed the engagement onto Thorne, he would be the one standing beside her right now.

Why?

Why should some washed-up ex-convict get to marry a woman like this?

Hawk clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

The argument in the courtyard kept going. Bourne and Greya were both getting louder. Adrian's expression was getting darker. The guards behind him had already started moving forward.

"I'm giving you one last chance." Adrian's voice went flat and low. "Hand him over. Or don't blame me for what comes next."

Bourne stiffened his neck. "We're not handing anyone over. Our Hawk has never killed anyone."

The words had barely left his mouth.

A cold, dark energy exploded without warning from the shadows in the corner of the estate.

Thorne's pupils shrank instantly.

He knew this energy.

He knew it too well.

A beam of black light shot out from the darkness — silent, fast, aimed straight at Daisy's back.

It was too fast.

Most of the people there didn't even have time to react.

Thorne spun around and yanked Daisy behind him, throwing his left arm up in front of his body. The magic inside him surged wildly, condensing into a thin barrier across his forearm.

The black beam slammed into the barrier.

The barrier shattered.

The beam hit Thorne's left arm with a dull crack, like something had ground straight through the bone.

A mouthful of blood burst from his lips and hit the ground, shockingly red.

The sleeve on his left arm was burned away, flesh peeled back in ragged curls, charred black and raw red tangled together, blood running down his fingers and dripping onto the stone below.

Thorne's right hand still held steady, shielding Daisy behind him. He hadn't moved an inch.

Daisy stood behind him. In that instant, something changed in her eyes.

The blankness was gone.

Her pupils contracted sharply. Her gaze fell on Thorne's bloodied back, and something seized her heart like a fist closing around it.

The dark energy had jolted the Holy Light inside her, forcing her consciousness back into clarity.

The first thing she saw was Thorne standing in front of her, blood seeping through his fingers.

From the shadows in the corner of the estate, a figure slowly stepped out.

Father Bell.

The gentle, kindly look he'd worn before was completely gone. In its place was something twisted, something that looked almost like madness, stretched into a smile.

"Just as I thought." He pointed at Thorne, his laughter sharp and grating. "A devil is always a devil — even dying, he protects his prey."

Thorne pressed a hand to his chest and slowly straightened up.

The blood was still flowing, but his eyes were cold as ice.

"You again." Thorne's voice was quiet — quiet enough that only the people closest to him could hear.

Father Preston Bell had no intention of sticking around to fight. Almost instantly, black mist began churning up from beneath his robes, ready to swallow him whole again.

But this time, the moment the mist rose, it hit something — like an invisible wall.

It couldn't move.

Preston froze. He looked down at the black mist coiling around his feet. It churned and thrashed in place, but it couldn't spread.

He snapped his head up.

Daisy stood behind Thorne, her eyes glowing with a faint golden light.

Holy Light.

She hadn't even tried to do anything. She was just standing there, and the Holy Light inside her was instinctively suppressing his dark energy — like an invisible hand pressing down on every escape route he had.

Preston's expression twisted.

He started struggling. The black mist slammed against that invisible pressure over and over, but it couldn't break through.

"You—" He glared at Daisy, something wild burning in his eyes.

Then he turned to Thorne and started screaming.

"You cruel devil!" His voice went hysterical. "Who do you think you are? You're nothing but garbage that people threw away! Your birth parents abandoned you! Your adoptive parents despise you! The whole world has no use for you!"

"You are something nobody wanted!"

"Even a dog has someone who cares about it more than you do!"

Everyone in the courtyard heard every word.

Thorne stood where he was. He didn't move.

But his eyes changed.

Deep in his pupils, a flash of crimson light came and went.

The magic inside him began surging out of control, like something had flipped a switch.

Abandoned.

Nobody wanted him.

The words drove into his mind like needles, straight into the wound he'd spent ten years barely managing to close.

Thorne moved.

One step.

Just one step, and he was already in front of Preston.

His right hand came up, fingers closing around Preston's throat, and he lifted.

Preston's feet left the ground.

His screaming turned into a choked, strangled whimper. His legs kicked wildly in the air. His fingers clawed at Thorne's wrist, but he couldn't pry it open even a little.

Thorne looked at him. There was no rage in his eyes.

Just cold.

A cold that went all the way to the bone.

"You're right." Thorne spoke, his voice low, pressed out from somewhere deep in his chest. "I am a devil."

His fingers tightened.

A dull crack.

Preston's body went slack. His head dropped to one side. His eyes were still open, but there was nothing left in them.

Thorne let go.

The body hit the ground hard, landing with a heavy, hollow thud.

The entire estate went dead silent.

No one spoke. No one moved.

Bourne and Greya had shrunk behind a table, their faces white as paper. Hawk's legs were shaking — every trace of the desire he'd felt toward Daisy moments ago had been washed away by pure fear.

Adrian stood where he was, watching Thorne's back. His lips moved, but nothing came out.

Thorne turned around.

Blood was still soaking through his chest, staining half his shirt red, but his steps were steady.

He didn't look at anyone.

Only when he passed Daisy did he stop for a moment.

"You okay?"