Darius's eyes shifted from Kael to Thorne.

The softness of the tired, grieving father

vanished entirely, replaced by the hardened,

predatory stare of a man who had survived the

darkest, most violent corners of the world. He didn't

raise his voice. He didn't puff out his chest. He

simply stood there, transforming into an immovable

object. "I think you need to step back," Darius said.

His tone was no longer a polite request; it was a

definitive warning.

Kael laughed, a loud, barking sound that

echoed off the high ceiling. "Or what? You're going to

fight us? You're going to fight both of us?" He turned

to the crowd, throwing his arms wide in mock

disbelief. "You hear that, everyone? The old man

wants to fight!" The crowd chuckled nervously. "I

challenge you," Thorne said, dropping into a

dramatic fighting stance.

"Right here. Right now. If you can last one

single minute against me, you can stay. If you lose,

you pack your cheap bags and never come back.

What do you say, tough guy? Going to defend your

honor in front of your kid, or are you going to tuck

your tail and run away crying?" Darius looked down

at Leo, seeing the tears welling in his son's eyes, and

knew exactly what he had to do.