Warlock Ch 455. Unquiet Lunch
Damian could feel them. Five others. Marked. Tied to Ralvek's rituals through indirect funding, stolen supply chains, fabricated sigils.
They didn't even realize they were walking into a war of attrition they'd already lost.
He wiped his mouth delicately with the silk napkin.
"Shall we?" he said to the table.
Aria gave a small nod.
Cassius grinned. "Time to pretend we're grateful?"
"Time to go let them think they won," Damian said.
And when they reached the guest quarters the Tribunal had so generously assigned them, Damian took the window seat, cracked it open, and let the breeze hit his face.
The smell was still there.
That animalistic undercurrent. Subtle. Persistent.
They were trying so hard to trigger something inside him.
But what they didn't understand—
What they'd never understand—
Was that Damian Blackthorn didn't have something inside him.
He was the thing waiting to be unleashed.
And now?
He had their names.
