The silence between them was sharp enough to cut. Gabriel had spent years perfecting the art of patience, measured words, and controlled expressions, but tonight his restraint had worn thin. Damian, too, stood rigid, his frustration barely hidden beneath the smooth veneer of authority. But there was something else beneath it all: an unspoken need, a flaw in his otherwise impenetrable armor.
Gabriel exhaled and pressed his thumb against his temple. "Where do I even begin?" His voice was quieter now, but no less bitter. "You and my family—when did you decide that my life was yours to shape? Was there ever a moment when I had a choice?"
Damian's golden eyes didn't waver. He didn't deny it, didn't retreat into half-truths. "The moment you spoke up at that hearing months ago and defied the Ministry," he said simply. "That was when you lost the luxury of choice."
