Damian stood without a word.
The silence between them was volcanic. Contained, for now, but only just. Even Edward, who had remained by the door like a morally superior coatrack, chose that moment to vanish without a sound. Shadows or not, no one interfered when Gabriel used that voice. The one that wasn't loud, but final. The one that meant now.
Marin didn't look up again. "You're stable," he said simply. "Which is more than I can say for the emotional environment in this room. Get dressed before you both start rewriting palace architecture."
Gabriel swung his legs off the recliner with deliberate precision, ignoring the mild ache in his lower back. Damian didn't move to help, and that, more than anything, told Gabriel how serious this was. He dressed in silence, aware of Marin snapping the logbook closed and slipping the Shadow-marked vial into a locked drawer.
He didn't ask where the key was.
He already knew Marin would eat it before letting anyone else touch it.
