POV: Damon
Damon found his brother in the training yard behind the estate, moving through combat forms with the kind of focused intensity that meant he was working something out in his head.
The sun was climbing toward midday, and the yard was empty except for Damian. Everyone else had the good sense to give the Alphas space after last night.
Damon leaned against the fence and watched his eldest brother drive a brutal combination into the training dummy....jab, cross, hook, uppercut....each strike landing with enough force to make the dummy shudder on its chains.
"You're going to break that thing," Damon observed mildly.
Damian didn't pause. "Then we'll get another one."
"Or you could just tell me what's eating at you."
This time Damian did stop. He stepped back from the dummy, breathing hard, sweat gleaming on his bare shoulders. His eyes when they met Damon's were sharp. Considering.
"Callum," Damian said finally.
