He stepped closer, fury sharpening into something more personal.
"Kyrion, I've trusted your judgment for years. But this—this sounds like you're dressing incompetence up as paranoia. You expect me to believe a boy walked into my house and made fools of all of us? And you - the head of my security never noticed before the flaws that he did in a matter of moments?"
On any other day, Kyrion would have swallowed the rebuke.
But the silence would mean betrayal today. Betrayal to the best interests of his master.
"I never saw it," Kyrion said quietly. "Because you forbade me to think like a man from the West."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"Askai isn't some rebellious East End brat, Vance. He is West in blood and instinct. The kind raised to survive predators by becoming one."
Kyrion had his suspicions about the boy from the very first day he had laid his eyes upon him. He never saw the boy pass through the gates of Steve's mansion on the night of Vance's Welcome Party and he had profiled each and every one of those attending the event.
Askai had been threading through the crowd whole night without any purpose. More than once he had raised his brows at Kyrion's men as if it was something he was trained to pick on.
Kyrion had been so occupied that night watching Askai's steps, he couldn't spot those brats who were actually cooking the cheap tricks in their backyard.
Askai had done nothing threatening in that party yet it was him who kept unsettling Kyrion. He could only regret what he had done that night.
Kyrion had been the one who had alerted Vance to Askai's presence and had somehow ended up throwing him in that siren's way. He hadn't realized his mistake until the very next day when Vance was on his way to his suite in the University. His presence in that place was merely a formality but one the Old Regale insisted on.
It was then that the boy suddenly appeared again. This time, pretending to be in trouble with Steve.
Kyrion refused to believe that his constant appearance was just a coincidence.
There was not an ounce of fear in his eyes unlike the boys of his age quivering in their boots. If only Vance had listened to him and not jumped in to save that boy, the truth would have come out then and there.
Kyrion was sure that Askai wouldn't have let out a single hiss of pain even if they were to rain down punches on him. They dealt with worse in West just to live another day.
Yet somehow Vance was so smitten with the boy, he could not see what Kyrion very clearly did. He even stopped him from digging into his background, for heavens sake! This insanity needed to end.
"He's trained," Kyrion continued, unwavering. "This is no coincidence that I found him in the drawing room, right next to your conference hall, of all places. He was listening in on your conversations. This won't be the first time. Once I heard of a boy in the West raised in the shadow of Valez. They said he listened to all the whispers in the East and the West. He was the eyes and the ears of him and no one in the two directions knew any better. They never saw him hiding behind their walls. A viper-that's what he was. There's a strong possibility Askai's a mole too—working for that bastard!"
The impact was instant.
Vance's face twisted in fury and barely concealed contempt. "Don't."
He crossed the room in three strides and slammed Kyrion into the wall, fingers fisting into his lapels. Despite Kyrion's towering frame, Vance pinned him there with pure, unfiltered rage.
"Say that again," Vance hissed, breath hot and uneven. "Say his name again and I'll kill you."
Kyrion didn't resist. He let Vance direct his rage onto him because he knew that whatever happened next, would only further fuel the fire.
He could see quite clearly not only the anger—but the fear behind it.
"Get the blonde," Vance snarled. "Drag him out of whatever hole he thinks he's hiding in. Bring him to me and then I'll listen what you have to say."
"I don't care what it takes," he said. "Find him for me and I will make sure Askai never steps out of line again."
Kyrion's hands fisted on his side.
"There is something else you must know. It happened last night. Moraine led an attack into Middle Nolan. He took Jordan with him."
"He did what?" Vance asked, disbelief cutting sharp through his voice.
"I should have seen that coming," Kyrion replied evenly. "They were all working together—"
"Shut up."
The word cracked through the room like a gunshot. Vance's hand slammed into the desk, rattling the crystal decanter. "One more word of this nonsense, Kyrion, and I will forget who you are."
Silence followed—thick, deliberate.
Kyrion let it sit. He had learned, long ago, that there were moments when Vance did not need counsel. He needed distance—from truth, from consequence, from himself.
Finally, Kyrion exhaled. Arguments would only drive the blade deeper. Duty, however, still demanded action.
"I'll find him," he said quietly. "And the blonde. I know where to start. I'll call in Orion—someone else can watch Ruby for now."
Vance gave a short nod, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls. Kyrion doubted the words had truly reached him. When hearts were involved, reason was always the first casualty.
The storm was already there, churning behind Vance's eyes—tight, contained, dangerous. He stood unmoving by the window, as though the city beyond might offer an answer it never had before.
Kyrion had never seen him like this.
He hesitated, just a fraction, before turning away. Loyalty pulled him forward. Fear—quiet, unwelcome—held him back.
As his hand reached the door, Vance spoke again. His voice was lower now. Stripped.
"Don't hurt him, Kyrion." A pause. "I mean it. None of the boys should be hurt."
Kyrion inclined his head in assent.
But as he stepped into the corridor, the weight in his chest remained.
Because for the first time, he was no longer certain whether protecting Vance meant obeying him—or saving him from what he was becoming.
He had earned too many enemies to afford a beating heart now.