Dorian’s pov.

When Freya stormed out, the room was swallowed by a suffocating silence. Tiberius stood there, his arms still folded, but I could see it—the uncertainty in his eyes. He was trying to make sense of it, but failing, just like me. Neither of us spoke for what felt like minutes. The air was heavy.

Finally, I broke the silence. "I don’t believe it. That we’re brothers. I’ve got too much shit on my plate already."

Tiberius’s voice was quieter. "I get it. ...