Ethan's laugh was a dry echo. "I don't know," he lied quick and loud, because lying is a reflex for men who built castles on sand. He scoffed, trying to wedge anger back into his voice. "You'll never touch Lucas unless he wants you to. The Blackwoods run Astraeus. They're the city. More pull than the government. You try anything and you burn your life down."
Xavier's face went cold—not because he believed the threat, but because the city had given him enough reasons to stop believing in sacred names. He said it like a fact, not a threat. "Then I'll burn the city down."
It was not a plan. Not a how. Not a threat. It was a statement. A verdict. The words didn't outline arson or strategy; they carried a weight—an idea that everything the Blackwoods stood on could be taken apart if someone was willing to set fire to their world and watch it consume itself. Ethan's mouth opened and closed around the word like a fish trying to breathe smoke.
