The air in the room seemed to vanish. The silence was shattered not by words, but by the sudden, violent movement of Rowan Hamilton.
Ines stared at her brother. His face, usually so kind, usually so full of brotherly affection, was twisted into a mask of pure, red rage. He looked at her—at her disheveled hair, her swollen lips, her hand in Carcel's—and then his eyes snapped to his best friend.
"Ro… Ro… Rowan," Ines stammered, her voice a tiny, terrified squeak. She took a step back, her legs hitting the side of a table.
Rowan did not hear her. He did not see her fear. He saw only the man he had trusted with his life, the man he had trusted with his family, standing in a bedroom with his ruined sister.
Rowan moved.
He launched himself across the room. It was a blur of motion, a release of years of friendship turning into instant hatred.
"CARCEL!!!"
The scream tore from Rowan's throat, raw and primal.
Rowan's fist connected with Carcel's jaw.
Crack.
