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“I warned you to stay away from her.”

“Killing Graves wasn’t a warning.” His name catches in my throat, dragging the grief up so violently that I have to turn it into movement. I step away from the windows and move closer to him. “It was a reminder that you’re everything I don’t want to become.”

My father’s nostrils flare.

I’ve never said the thought aloud with such certainty. I expected it to leave me exposed, but now that it’s between us, I don’t want it back.

“Graves forgot who he served.”

My fists tighten at my sides. “He served our family for thirty years.”

“In the end, he served you.” His tone is full of condemnation. All I hear is Graves is dead because he stood with me.

“The man respected me. He was loyal.”

My father shakes his head, the movement mocking. “He hid your mess and made you think you were better than me.”

“He taught me the difference between loyalty and obedience.”

“They’re the same thing.”

I spent years obeying my father because it was the only relationship he offered me. I refuse to call it loyalty anymore.

“Only to a man who wants a servant instead of a son.”

His hand closes around the edge of the desk, the tendons popping out beneath his skin.

“You walk into my house, reveal that you’ve used every advantage I gave you to build assets behind my back, tear apart an alliance I arranged and defend the family that has undermined us for generations. What exactly do you expect now?”

“Let it end.”

Those three words aren’t a request. They’re the last chance I intend to give him before I end it myself.

His laugh is harsher now. “End?”

“Let Keira stay with Saint. Leave Sera alone. Stop dragging all of us through a feud none of us chose.”

“You mistake desire for peace.”

“This didn’t begin with Saint, Keira, Sera, or me. It began on the Heath sixteen years ago, and everyone born after it has paid the price.”

The color of his eyes turns flat. “You know nothing about what began between us.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “So why don’t you enlighten me then?”

“The truth will come out when it needs to.”

Anger burns in my throat. He’s shaped our lives around a secret he refuses to trust us with, then demanded loyalty to every consequence.

“Right. When it suits you.”

After placing his cigar in the ashtray, he slides open the top drawer in his desk. I know what sits inside it, but I also know he won’t pull a gun unless he’s willing to destroy the Harrington succession and face jail time.

Leaving it open, my father picks up his cigar again. “You think wars end because my children decide desire matters more than blood?”

“Wars end when the men feeding them die or decide they’ve taken enough.”

“And you believe you’re the man who gets to decide that?”