Damon’s POV
The heartbeat beneath the chamber grew louder.
I stood frozen, staring at the man who wore my face, while Vespera's fingers tightened around mine. The silver light surrounding her wrist pulsed in time with the sound beneath our feet, and every instinct Ragnar possessed was screaming that we were standing in the presence of something that should never have existed.
He is not our brother, Ragnar snarled.
You just told me to run from him.
Both things can be true.
That was reassuring.
Across the chamber, Darren Blackthorne smiled as though he could hear every word.
“You should have seen your face. Father always said you were difficult to surprise.” He said.
“Stop calling him that.” I demanded.
“Why? He was our father.” Darren said.
“My father died six years ago.” I said.
