As Eamon spoke, his presence surged, power swelling around him like a storm held barely in check. Ethan could feel it clearly now—this man was connected to the Blood clan.
From behind him, Micah's voice rang out, laced with urgency and hatred. "Brother… he's a half-Bloodline! You must kill him!"
Ethan's brow furrowed. Micah—whoever he really was—seemed to know far too much. It was like he had a personal vendetta against anyone tied to the Blood clan. But this wasn't the time for questions. Whatever Micah's secrets, Ethan would deal with them later. For now, he had a threat in front of him.
Eamon's expression twisted into something feral. "Since you know my secret… all of you must die!"
With a snarl, he stomped down mid-air. The sky cracked around him, lines spidering outward as though reality itself was breaking apart. Then he lunged at Ethan like a cannonball, both fists barreling forward—now coated in thick, jagged scales, each punch like a hammer swung by a god.
