The call lingered in silence for a few seconds, like even the line itself understood the weight that had just been exchanged. A quiet settled into his bedroom—not empty, not peaceful, but heavy. Like the air had grown tired of pretending it wasn't kneeling too. Parker adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with that terrifying nonchalance. No theatrics. No need for sparkles or illusions. Just authority—raw and indelible. The kind that would make gods second guess themselves and entire bloodlines rethink their loyalty.
"Helena."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Look into the Ashfords. Every single supernatural working for them. Every magician, vampire, psi-freak, rogue demigod or whatever. I want names. Ties. Weak spots. And I want to know just how easy it would be to trample their legacy into dust."
