“No,” Atlas growled, focusing all his fury on Andrei alone. “I’m not leaving. Not until I know you’re safe.” He crossed the room to Andrei. It was a risk to make the accusation here, but Cristian’s safety came first. Decebal needed to know how close the danger truly was. “And I know you won’t be safe until this piece of shit is no longer around.”
He felt the weight of Decebal’s gaze on him, testing his resolve, looking for proof of the accusation.
“You dare question my devotion to this family? I swore I would protect Angelica and her son. Everything I have done is to secure his future,” Andrei raged.
“And what a fantastic job you’ve done,” Atlas bit out. Keep closing in. Use your body to block his path to Cristian. Ioana’s behind him, you’re in front...together we might hold him back long enough when this all goes sideways. He stood toe to toe with the man and glared up at him. “She’s dead and you handed her son a bottle of vodka and told him to go fuck a stranger who ended up drugging him. Some protector you are—”
“You gave Cristian the vodka?” Doctor Dosou interrupted, staring at Andrei. “This vodka,” she clarified, holding up the bottle in his direction. The table before her was littered with tiny samples, two of them brightly colored.
Andrei narrowed his eyes and shut his mouth, but Atlas was close enough to see how his eyes flicked around the room. Probably cataloging distance, challenges, access to his target. It wasn’t smart to give him the time to plan. He snapped his fingers in front of Andrei’s face. It earned him a fanged snarl, one that made the skin around his scars ache from how the skin pulled tight when he fought a shudder, but it did distract Andrei.
“Answer her,” Atlas ordered.
When Andrei didn’t speak immediately, Dinu made a soft noise and murmured, “I saw him carrying it from the bar when he followed Cristian back.”
The doctor glanced toward Decebal. He frowned and eyed the sample on the table. He’d been careful to not move closer, but his weight was balanced differently. “You found something?”
“Juniper,” she said.
The word sucked the air from the room. Andrei moved before anyone else. Atlas read it in his sudden tension, in the feral glint of his eyes. He avoided the worst of Andrei’s swing to clear him from his path, only getting knocked down to his knees, unlike Dinu, who was thrown backward into the wall. Ioana lunged at Andrei’s back, clawing at his shoulders, only to be ripped off and flung at Decebal, who had sprung forward. Helias moved too, but he was too far away, unable to close the gap.
Atlas’s ribs screamed in protest from the blow they’d taken, but he scrambled to grab on to Andrei as he rushed Cristian. He reached, caught hold of Andrei’s leg, and pulled with what little might he had. The man stumbled and fell with a surprised shout. It gave him a moment. That would have to be enough.
They staggered up together. Atlas twisted to keep himself between Cristian and the threat, barely avoiding a wild haymaker swing that came at him faster than he thought possible. Andrei snarled and swung again, forcing Atlas to dance backward out of his reach. The simple defense left Andrei overextended, furious, and Atlas used the mistake to his advantage.
There was no doubt Andrei would swing again. His arm drew back just like Atlas expected, and Atlas moved. His palm struck Andrei’s bicep, jarring them both when the swing’s momentum was lost. In the split second it took Andrei to realize his mistake, Atlas finished taking the gap between them. For all he’d lost after the attack, the muscle memory of his training remained. A grab around the wrist with one hand, while his other hand clenched around the upper bicep. He dragged Andrei off balance, stepping to get behind his back. From there, it was easy to release the wrist and slam the heel of his hand into the soft flesh over the man’s kidney. Andrei gave a wheeze of pain and bowed away from the strike, losing the advantage of his greater height and leaving his neck vulnerable. Atlas grabbed his chin, forced his head back, and twisted him around, throwing him to the ground. He kept his hold on Andrei’s raised arm and ground a knee into the tender join of armpit and pec, praying the others moved fast enough to help him keep the man on the ground.
Ioana and Helias were there in a blink, throwing themselves over Andrei to keep him from struggling free. Decebal joined them a moment later. He crouched beside the man and his fingers dug into Andrei’s chin. Only then, faced with the Vladislavic patriarch’s snarl, the fangs inches from his eyes, did Andrei still.
“You poisoned my son,” Decebal murmured. The quiet menace in his voice combined with the golden flash of his eyes forced Atlas to look away and swallow, fighting down his own flight response.
“Not fatally,” Andrei said. He hissed and grimaced as Decebal dug his fingers in deeper.
“Angelica invited you into our home. I let you stay. And you betray me. Why?”
“Did you actually believe their promise?” Cristian asked, surprising them all. He swayed, barely able to stand, and Atlas hurried to help support him. Cristian fell against him, trusting Atlas to hold his weight, and glared at his great-uncle as Atlas settled him in place against his side. “The Wharrams despise us. They banished you for daring to choose my mother over them. You face great danger if you return to them. You wouldn’t go back unless they promised you something worthwhile. What was it, uncle? Your old position back? Or—” He glanced from Andrei to his father, who watched the traitor. “Or perhaps they offered you something better? The chance to rule my father’s territory as their lieutenant after I was leveraged against him?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Andrei said. “If you want to know what price the Wharrams offered for your head, ask your bodyguard.”
The world ground to a halt. Atlas locked his weakening knees, and tightened his grip around Cristian’s back. Sets of golden eyes fixed him in place. He shivered when their fangs caught the light as they exchanged worried glances.
“A drastic charge,” Decebal said evenly, “made by a desperate man.”
“What reason do I have to lie?” Andrei asked. He tilted his head, exposing his neck. “Take my blood. Learn the truth.”
Helias took a step forward. “Sir,” he said to Decebal, “shall I?”
Decebal dragged his focus away from Andrei to find Atlas. Barely banked fury burned in his eyes. All it would take was an affirmation for Helias to take Andrei’s blood and learn the truth. Atlas could no longer tell if he was supporting Cristian, or if Cristian was supporting him.
“No,” Cristian replied for his father. “He is a liar. He has betrayed his family, pitting them against each other to profit. His words have no value. We cannot consider any offer he makes.”
“What would you suggest I do then, my son?” Decebal asked.
Cristian gestured them to let Andrei up. Decebal stepped aside, allowing Ioana and Dinu to help their former compatriot to his knees. They didn’t let him stand; they pressed their hands down on his shoulders, a clear warning against making any sudden moves. Helias retook his place at Decebal’s side, but the man didn’t notice, too fixated on his son. Cristian carefully unwound from Atlas’s grip and made his slow, staggering way to his uncle. He came to a halt in front of the man and reached out, holding his face between his hands, forcing him to look up.
“Cristian,” Andrei whispered, “I promised to keep you safe, whatever the cost. You know this. You believed me when you were a boy.”
“I know,” he said with a small, sad smile. “Your mistake was to forget I am not the boy I was.”