Both he and Marcus were sculpted by Raven Island’s crucible. Memories of the experience evoked a hellish panorama.

Victor was ice and cruelty incarnate, his legacy offering no quarter simply due to their blood ties.

Rain poured relentlessly, cascading over tens of thousands of acres of dense woodland, where they grappled with ferocious beasts armed only with their bare hands and where bullets mimicking raindrops sought their flesh. A narrative of cruelty could alone capture life on Raven Island. There was no concept of mercy within the training crucible. The sole preoccupation was survival—a yearning to emerge from this infernal expanse and be liberated from its clutches.

Death equated to forfeiture.

Bruce possessed little doubt that, were he and Marcus to perish during training, not a tear would grace Victor’s eye. In his eyes, fledglings who couldn’t endure the crucible weren’t worthy of claiming the status of his grandsons.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

excelled. His performance was extraordinary. Across myriad facets, he showcased prodigious prowess. Within the team, he unfailingly

there were moments when jealousy stirred within Bruce toward Marcus. Both products of the Thomas

often felt

an ongoing dinner affair. It was Mr. Fairclough who extended an invitation to Marcus for this joint

chamber’s threshold, Kaya enacted a feigned casual stroll, yet her gaze inadvertently darted inside,

resplendent countenance induced a_ rapid heartbeat. Hastily, she covered her

Kaya’s eyes, Marcus epitomized perfection. He eclipsed even the most renowned of

Marcus and Mr. Fairclough finally emerged from the restaurant,

car, driven by Mr. Fairclough’s assistant, awaited

Thomas, until next

in response. He surveyed the

evening, he indulged in wine—an imprudent choice given

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