Modric’s POV
I refused to believe it.
Not because Viktor Volkov was incapable of terrible choices.
My father had made enough of them.
He had helped build the version of Ironclaw where pride mattered more than compassion. He had taught me that an Alpha should never appear weak, that reputation could be more important than truth, and that bloodline came before comfort, love, or personal choice.
He had interfered in my marriage.
He had defended customs that hurt Mary Ann.
He had treated succession like a duty that belonged to her body.
But ordering my death?
No.
I stared at the assassin until my vision blurred with anger.
“You are lying.”
The man smiled from the stone chair.
“Believe whatever helps.”
Kylian stepped between us before I moved closer.
“Modric.”
“I know.”
I did n
