บททั้งหมดของ The Exorcist’s Son: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 6

The memory hit Gabriel like a physical blow the moment he stepped into his father's bedroom, the smell of smoke and burning wood suddenly overwhelming despite the sterile scent of sickness that permeated the actual room.Five years ago. The Riverside Pack purge. Gabriel had been seventeen and still believed that the Holy Order served a righteous purpose, that the werewolves they hunted were monsters who deserved the flames.He had been so fucking wrong.Patriarch Thorne lay motionless in the massive four-poster bed, his skin gray beneath the curse marks that crawled across his chest like living tattoos. The symbols pulsed with that sickly green light, moving slowly toward his heart with the inexorable patience of poison. Gabriel forced himself to focus on his father's shallow breathing, on the present moment, but the past refused to release its grip.The Riverside packhouse had been burning when Gabriel arrived with his father's strike team. He remembered the heat against his face, th

The private elevator opened directly into Dominic's penthouse, and Gabriel stepped into a space that looked more like an architectural magazine spread than a place where anyone actually lived. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around three sides of the massive open-plan living area, offering a panoramic view of Seattle that made the city look like a glittering toy seventy-three floors below.Everything was minimalist luxury executed with ruthless precision. White marble floors stretched in every direction, broken only by strategically placed rugs that probably cost more than Gabriel's entire year of rent. The furniture was all clean lines and expensive materials, arranged with careful composition that suggested an interior designer rather than personal taste.The space felt cold despite the warm afternoon light. It was more like a showroom than somewhere a person might actually live. Gabriel supposed that was the point. Dominic Ashford did not do comfort. He did control, power and care

Dominic moved through the crowd with practiced ease, stopping to speak with pack representatives and business associates as though nothing had happened in that quiet corridor, as though he had not just pinned Gabriel against a wall and scented him like something he owned.Gabriel smiled when expected, shook hands when introduced, and spent the remainder of the evening hyperaware of Dominic's hand on his lower back, burning through the expensive fabric of the tailored suit like a brand.They did not speak in the car on the way home, or even in the elevator. When the penthouse doors opened and Dominic disappeared into his study without a backward glance, Gabriel went to his room, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at the city lights spread below the window until his heartbeat finally returned to something resembling normal.He barely slept.Dr. Helena Vance's office occupied a corner of the fifty-eighth floor of Ashford Tower, its walls lined with bookshelves holding texts that rang