"You've forced my hand today, Leon. I had to play along, had to give him what he wanted—because you didn't think before you acted. I was almost swept up in your mistake."
Galen let the silence stretch between them, watching as the full weight of his words began to sink into Leon's thick skull. The boy's breathing was uneven, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. But that defiant spark still lingered in his eyes, the same reckless arrogance that had nearly dragged Galen down with him.
It was infuriating.
Galen exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, before delivering the final blow.
"You need to contact your father. Immediately."
Leon blinked, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"
Galen's gaze hardened. "You heard me." His voice was even, almost deceptively calm. "If you have even the slightest shred of intelligence left, you'll inform him of what happened before Damien does."
