The twins whimpered, clutching at their father's coat. Byron's pulled them closer instinctively, his body torn between shielding them and drawing the pistol at his side. But his hand froze. He couldn’t move. Not against that stare.Dexter’s grin deepened. Not wide. Not mocking. Just enough to remind Byron of the gulf between them—that all this time, he had been nothing more than a pawn.Byron’s breath came fast, ragged. His vision blurred at the edges. He stumbled back, boots scraping, but Dexter’s presence only pressed harder, filling the space, suffocating.It hit him then, full force.The Professor he had obeyed. The voice that had pulled his strings. The shadow behind every calculated move.It was Dexter. All along.Byron’s knees almost buckled. His heart slammed against his ribs so hard it hurt. His mind screamed denial, but the truth stood unshakable before him.His nephew. His enemy.Byron’s first words were simple, flat as contract, “I did my part. We’re even. Stay away from m