Alaric
I listened to Marlowe relay Reid's confession with a cold, mounting fury that Rook made no effort to help me control.
*[Somebody's been playing all of us,]* he said, low, furious. *[Using Reid's jealousy like a tool. Feeding him exactly what he wanted to see, exactly when it would cause the most damage.]*
*I know.*
*[That's not Blackfang's usual style. Vance was brutal, direct. This is patient. Calculated. Somebody who understands this club well enough to know precisely which lever to pull.]*
The thought settled cold and uncomfortable in my chest — that whoever had orchestrated Marlowe's exposure understood not just club logistics, but the particular emotional architecture of every relationship inside these walls, understood exactly how to weaponize Reid's resentment without hi
