Gabriel's fingers curled tighter around the edge of the table, the press of bone against wood steadying him.
He didn't raise his voice.
He simply said, "No."
The word struck deeper than volume could have.
"I don't remember and I couldn't find the truth," he said slowly, deliberately, "but I know that's not it. Even without my memories, I know I would never choose out of spite. I would never turn my back on something I believed in—not unless it deserved it."
He looked Lucius in the eye now, the full weight of his title and fury cloaked in restraint.
"You want to blame me for choosing Damian? Fine. I did. I made that choice in a war you sent me into blind. And I made it because someone had to. Because you were too busy playing god with your sons' futures to stop the kingdom from burning."
Theo's breath caught.
Gabriel's voice dropped to a razor's edge.
"You made me into a weapon. And now you're angry that I fired."
Gabriel was silent for a long moment.
