Chapter 298 A Bad Copy

• Charles tracked the black veins crawling up Victor’s throat and laughed—the sound of a man who’d been nursing kindling for an hour and finally, *finally* saw it catch.
• “There you are,” he said again, softer, almost tender. “Do you know, Father, I’ve spent this whole night wondering what it would take. I didn’t think it would be her. I thought maybe Mother. Maybe that pretty little executive glued to your side. But no—the spare.”
• He rolled his neck, and something beneath his own skin answered the pressure. Not black like Victor’s veins. A deep, wet crimson, spreading up from his wrists like something long asleep and now very much awake.