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All eyes shifted to the man I once called Dad, each pair studying him like the enemy standing in plain sight. I couldn’t stop the sudden, vile wave of revulsion that surged through me like a riptide. In the blink of an eye, I saw him in a different light, one I could never unsee.

The image of him sitting beside a man who had violated both of the women I cared for repulsed me in ways I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. Every rational, coddling thought I had left shattered against the ceiling of my restraint, a restraint stretched so thin it threatened to snap. Still, I forced myself to rein it in, burying every unholy impulse deep where it couldn’t reach the surface.

Mark wasn’t the one who committed those acts. Judging him for crimes he hadn’t personally carried out would be wrong. Who was I to play judge and jury when I hadn’t been there?

But he had.

He would’ve known what happened. And if he had truly stood beside that man, could I trust anything he said now? One Elguto’s actions didn’t define my father. Being next to a criminal didn’t make him innocent either.

I had to proceed with caution.

It took everything in me to steady my breath as I looked him over, my gaze raked from the soles of his boots to the flames flickering behind his eyes. “Explain yourself,” I finally managed, my voice meant to sound calm, but it was strangled by the uncertainty tightening in my chest.

“I’m your father!” he shouted, flames flaring like a threat, licking dangerously close to the carriage behind him. Anger was carved so deeply into his features that he nearly looked unrecognizable, his gaze boring into mine. His next question should have shaken me, but it felt inevitable. “How dare you ask me that?”

“You need to be accountable for your whereabouts,” I replied evenly. “Father or not.” My voice didn’t waver. As I spoke, my chest lifted and squared, my posture straightening until I stood over him, five inches taller, though the difference felt far greater than height. I wanted him to feel it. To understand that I was no longer the boy who needed protecting, no longer the child who looked at him with blind trust.

He had to face the truth.

I wasn’t just his son anymore.

“You’re concerned about where I was?” he echoed, stunned, his voice cracking with a raw mix of shock and hurt. “Where I was?” His gaze sharpened. “You’re not worried about the violent acts Arianna and Valentina committed? They slaughtered innocent people tonight, son.”

His words grew more detailed, more vivid, each one tugging at my chest. But even as they pulled, they didn’t shake me. I could deal with Arianna and Valentina’s actions later. There would be time for accountability. Over the last week, they had earned my trust. They didn’t act without weighing consequence.

But right now?

This wasn’t about them.

This was about him, and how smoothly he tried to sidestep my question. Two years ago, hell, even two weeks ago, I might’ve fallen for it. But not now. My mind was sharper. My instincts louder. And I could smell the misdirection a mile away. “That’s not what I asked,” I snapped, irritation cutting into my tone. “I asked where you were. And let’s add another, was what Arianna said true?” I studied him as he stood there, body rigid, lips twitching into something almost amused.

Like he thought I’d break.

Like he expected it.

“So you don’t trust me?” he asked, his voice low with disbelief. “I raised you—your entire life. And now you trust them over me? You think I’m some kind of traitor?” His tone curved upward, almost begging, almost accusing. Like if he played the right note, I’d come crawling back into the arms of familiarity.

But I wasn’t that boy anymore.

“Why are you deflecting?” I asked, calmer now—too calm. The kind of calm that made the storm behind it more dangerous.

His flames flared around his wrists, growing brighter the more agitated he became. He must have been banking on the idea that I’d still fall for his misdirection, that I was still the boy who filtered every shortcoming through the lens of love. That old, unshakable hope that a parent would always be a safe place. A soft pillow to cry into.

Mark leaned on that sentiment too long.

He thought I was still the kid who wanted his dad at every game. The one who searched the graduation crowd, eyes scanning for his face.

That felt like another lifetime ago.

All that childish longing died the moment I realized he hadn’t died. He left.

And at this point… death would’ve been easier to accept. Cleaner. Because whatever he thought he was doing now, stirring chaos in the middle of my new life, it wasn’t love. It wasn’t guidance. And if this was his way of saying he wanted to stay in my life, he had a strange way of showing it.

Mark stared at me in silence, then glanced at the others. His expression softened, just a fraction, shifting from rage to indifference. His nostrils flared before his gaze drifted back to mine. He took a deep breath, like he was gathering thoughts that would get him executed if spoken aloud. “I’m not deflecting, son,” he said softly. “I’m trying to warn you.”

My voice dropped, low and rough. “Warn me from what?”

“Them,” he said, gesturing around us. “They’re no good for you. This crown. These people. They’re oppressors, Alex. They’ve always tried to keep the Elguto down. You don’t want to be tied to their evil.” His words spilled fast, frantic, like a man clinging to a truth that was already collapsing. But all I saw was fear. Not concern. Fear of becoming irrelevant in a world he could no longer control.