Chapter 182

• Kavian’s POV
• “Someone should clean this mess up,” our father said, his tone flat, almost bored—as if he were pointing out spilled wine on stone rather than the body of a man he had just killed in cold blood. Not a single soul spoke. No gasp. No protest.
• Everyone here knew his cruelty. It had become so normal it was like the very air we breathed—unseen, unquestioned, suffocating only if you stopped to notice it. The old me, before Rose, would have watched with interest, maybe even satisfaction. After all, my brothers and I were shaped in his image, perfect reflections of his ruthlessness.