Caelian shot a glance at Caelus and felt something inside him wither like a plant denied sunlight.
For the first time in his life—and he meant the first time, because even when Caelus had suggested they train by jumping off a cliff to "test their survival instincts," Caelian had thought that was a perfectly reasonable idea—he was convinced that his brother had come up with a genuinely bad plan.
Asking their uncle to help with a second kidnapping.
After the first one had ended with Caesar mentally scarred by meat buns.
And the worst part?
Caelus didn't even want Kyler for his combat skills. Or his tactical genius. Or his centuries-old pack connections.
No.
Caelus wanted to use their uncle as a lucky charm.
A meat shield made of pure, terrifying authority, to ward off their unhinged stepsister like she was a ghost and Kyler was a salt circle made of muscle and disappointment.
