Marcus stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He was used to Dean's outburst.
The energy in the room was suffocating.
"We can still destroy the Dud," Marcus muttered, his voice low. His eyes were burning.
Dean froze. Slowly, he turned, locking his gaze onto Marcus.
For a moment, the only sound was the heavy breathing from Dean's chest. Then, without a word, he stepped past Marcus, his expression unreadable.
Marcus exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched.
Something had shifted in Dean tonight.
And that could only mean one thing, war was coming.
***
The next day, the sun rose over Haven in a haze.
Dean stood before a large map of the city, his fingers tracing the lines of the streets as he spoke in a cold, calculating tone.
"Set my plan B in motion," he commanded Marcus, his voice sharp and unwavering.
Marcus nodded without hesitation, his eyes narrowing in understanding. "It'll be done."
