He felt them following, sensing them rushing to keep up with his long strides, but he did not slow.

He made it to the end of the long hall, turned to them and assessed the distance.

He could not see Silence if she was hiding at the bottom of those bloody stairs.

He could only hope that hall was long enough they were too far away for her to hear whatever was said next should she be listening.

Johan and Vanka caught up with him, Vanka practically being dragged as she tried to stop her husband from finishing his approach.

Her face was agonized.

Fuck.

“Don’t do this, Johan,” she pleaded when the man stopped before Mars.

“Let me go,” he snapped, shaking his arm.

She tugged on it. “Please, Johan.”

“Bloody let me go!” he shouted, whipping around, and Vanka whipped with him, slamming into the wall.

Mars heard blood roaring in his ears.

That was it.

Enough.

Mars again took Silence’s father by the throat, and it was Mars doing the slamming against a wall.

Johan emitted a grunt of surprise.

He then glowered up at Mars who had a firm hold on him, but this time he didn’t squeeze.

“Release me,” Johan demanded.

“Say your words and be done with it,” Mars ordered.

“Release me!”

“You are not her father.”

Johan’s head jerked, not in offense, in surprise that Mars guessed accurately what this was about.

Vanka emitted a long whine.

Yes. He was accurate.

His queen’s beautiful petite frame, ebony hair, pale skin, silver eyes.

She looked nothing like either of these people.

Even the mother.

“Bloody hell,” Mars murmured. “Why didn’t I see it?”

“Unhand me!” Johan yelled.

Mars let him go and took a step back.

Johan tugged his waistcoat down, then flapped his jacket more firmly on his chest, all this glaring at Mars.

“If you don’t wish her to know, you’ll pay me,” he shared.

“And we don’t,” Vanka rushed in to say. “We all don’t wish her to know.”

“You need to keep your mouth shut,” Johan snapped at his wife.

“Well, we don’t, we don’t wish—” Vanka stated.

“You don’t,” Johan retorted to his wife. “I no longer give a damn.”

“She is Countess of the Arbor,” Vanka reminded him. “She’s yours in all but—”

“What counts,” Johan spat. “Blood. I’m married to a fucking whore. You opened your legs—”

Vanka’s face lost all color. “But you wanted a child so badly, my love, and we weren’t—”

“I didn’t want you to fuck that horrid man to give me one!” he shouted. “I told you to find someone worthy. You did not find someone worthy!”

“Quiet down,” Mars growled.

Johan jerked his gaze to Mars. “I’ll do what I want.”

“And I will as well, including finding ways to keep you quiet that you will not like,” Mars warned. “So quiet down.”

Johan shook his head repeatedly while inclining his neck, making a pompous movement all the more pretentious.

“You told me you needed an heir,” Vanka whispered, broken. “You told me to—”