Page 88 of Dance With A Devil

Before I could stop the spiral, it was too late. I fell, and no one caught me.

Branson's voice slices through my thoughts. Cold. Authoritative. Tired of pretending.

“It would appear our sons have more balls than we do,” he says, the words echoing off marble and shame. “We’ve been reduced to shadows. Hiding in plain sight. Letting our legacy rot. For what?”

“We were instructed to wait,” Desmond mutters like a trained dog reciting his leash length.

“Fuck waiting,” Branson snaps, his voice turning gravel. “While we sit here with our dicks in our hands, those boys are taking over. Our reign is crumbling.”

A silence drapes the room like a funeral cloth.

And then it shifts.

The air tightens. The temperature drops. Every hair on my arms stands on end.

“You dare to speak of rebellion in my presence?”

The voice comes from the dark, velvet, and venom.

Every head snaps toward the hallway, where the shadows peel apart.

He steps into the light like death in designer shoes.

The Prime.

He doesn’t walk. He glides. And with every step, another ounce of breath is strangled out of the room.

“Moments ago,” he murmurs, “you were prepared to defy me. But now… now you all cower like children caught playing with matches.”

“Sir, we,” Desmond stammers, already digging his grave.

“Shut up,” the Prime hisses, each syllable laced with something feral. “The girl will come around. I’ll see to it myself. Until then, you will remain obedient.”

I swallow hard, throat dry as ash. “But sir… with the five of them guarding her day and night… she’s untouchable. They came to my home. Threatened me.”

“Contain yourself.” His gaze snaps to me, pinning me like a knife. “You’re a High Elder. Start acting like one.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” I mutter, but my voice is already drowning under his glare.

“No. You’re not. Especially you.” He steps closer, curling his lip at me like I’m filth beneath his boot. “Your son stole your most prized possession. You tried to erase him. He found her again. And now, they’re taking everything.”

He leans in, voice dropping low. “You let it happen. Just like before.”

I lower my gaze, spine curling in submission.

I become what I’ve always been beneath him.

A lapdog in a lion’s den.

As he retreats, cloaked again in shadows, my mind burns with fury.

This is all her fault.

If Athens hadn’t existed, if she hadn’t been born to inherit what should’ve been mine, none of this would’ve spiraled.

I step into the library, retrieving my phone from my pocket.

One ring. Gio answers.