The air in the hallway changed long before Ares and Atlas appeared. Helena felt it—an almost electric charge, sharp as a blade and twice as cold. She had witnessed this energy before: the presence her sons carried when they slipped into the version of themselves forged by trauma, anger, and survival.

They weren’t coming as her boys.

They were coming as the men Lucian had made them.

And that was the bitter truth Helena had spent years trying to shield them from.

Lucian sensed it ...