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It was him.

The second I took my first step away from the table, Atlas’s expression shifted.

“Fine,” he growled. “No harm will come to the boy.”

“And do I have your word on that?”

Atlas raised a furious brow. “Don’t push it, little bird,” he snapped. “If I say it, then my word is my vow.”

Relief washed through me so quickly that I nearly sagged with it. Whatever else happened today, whatever arguments still lay ahead of us in this impossible conversation, at least Riley was safe.

Slowly, I retook my seat. Atlas watched me do it, his expression remaining thunderous. The anger was still there, simmering dangerously close to the surface, but now that I was looking for it, I could see something else lurking beneath it too.

Fear. Not fear for himself.

Fear for me.

“Now, what happened next?”

At that, Aster scrubbed a large hand down his face, looking very much like a man who knew he was about to make things considerably worse.

“I took her to the prison to see him.”

Atlas’s head jerked back as though he’d physically misheard the words.

“You did what?” The dangerous calm in his voice lasted all of two seconds. “Let me make sure I’ve understood this correctly.” He leaned forward in his chair, fixing Aster with a stare that would have made most people flee the room. “My second-in-command, the man I specifically charged with her safety, decided the best course of action was to take her directly to the same prison holding the asshole who dared lay a hand on my woman?!”

By the end of the sentence, the calm had vanished completely as the roar that followed echoed through the room.

Aster closed his eyes briefly.

“Yes,” he said with the patience of a man who had clearly already had this argument with himself several times. “And if I hadn’t done that, she never would have seen what she did.”

Atlas looked ready to launch himself across the table upon hearing this, but Aster continued as though his life wasn’t hanging by a thread.

“If I hadn’t taken her there, you would currently be sitting in the ruins of your own kingdom after driving a sword through your brother’s heart.”

The room fell silent, and my mind buzzed with memories. It was true. Granted, I had seen part of the vision in the basement, but it was the vision from touching Riley in the cell that gave it further clarity and confirmed everything. It had given the name Demetrios.

Atlas froze.

“So, unless you’d have preferred that outcome,” Aster continued evenly, “I’d suggest you stop focusing on the part where I took her to the prison and start focusing on the part where it prevented Demetrios from getting exactly what he wanted.” His gaze flicked briefly towards Lazaros before returning to Atlas. “Because that’s precisely what would have happened, my friend.”

Atlas closed his eyes briefly, and the room fell silent as though he couldn’t help imagining the alternative for himself. I watched the muscle tighten in his jaw and knew exactly what he was seeing. Lazaros dead. The kingdom in ruins. Demetrios victorious.

When Atlas finally opened his eyes again, some of the anger had faded, replaced by a grim resignation.

“Go on.” The words didn’t come from him as Lazaros spoke instead, stepping in for his brother when it became obvious that Atlas was still struggling to process everything he had nearly lost.

I took a steadying breath.

“The moment I touched him, everything disappeared. Riley. The walls… Everything.” Even now, remembering it made a shiver run down my spine, both visions I’d had now merging as one. It was also no doubt why my brain had decided to describe it this way, seeing as the last thing I wanted to do was put Atlas through every painful, gritty detail. But then, I also knew it wasn’t just Atlas I was trying to protect…it was also Riley.

“It was like the world itself had been ripped away. Something dragged me down into the darkness, and then a face appeared.”

“Demetrios.” The snarl that escaped Lazaros was filled with a bitterness that went far beyond hatred. It was the sound of betrayal. The sound of a man forced to accept that someone he had trusted had been manipulating him all along.

I nodded. “Demetrios… and then there was someone else.” The memory returned with startling clarity, every detail as vivid as it had been at that moment. “At first, I thought it was Atlas. There were similarities, enough that I genuinely believed it was him for a moment. But the longer I looked, the more I started noticing the differences. His hair was darker. His skin was paler. And his eyes…” I swallowed hard as the image surfaced once again. “His eyes changed while I was looking at him. One moment, they were brown, just like Atlas’s. The next, they looked wrong, as though the darkness itself was bleeding through them.”