The silence that follows Heidi's accusation is heavy enough to crush the lungs of a lesser wolf. It stays in the air like a thick fog, damp with the smell of Grayson's cooling blood and the sharp, metallic tang of the weapons the guards are currently pointing at Heidi's throat.
Tobias doesn't explode into a rage. Hell, the man doesn't even roar.
Instead, he lets out a sound that is far more terrifying. It's a dry chuckle that sounds like dead leaves skittering over a tombstone. He steps down the final two stairs.
"Execute my own son?" The man asks, his voice smooth as aged bourbon and twice as intoxicating. He spreads his hands wide, gesturing to the sprawling, opulent estate behind him, the empire he built on a foundation of bones.
"Heidi, dear, your grief has clearly curdled your brain. Why would I ever kill a heir of the blood? Why would I destroy the very legacy I've spent years perfecting?"
