A Son's Bold Claim

FABIAN

I stood at the edge of the rogue encampment, the tension thick enough to choke on. The guards who'd tried to stop me lay groaning behind me, not seriously hurt but definitely nursing bruised egos. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at me—some curious, most hostile. Good. At least I had their attention.

"Vaughn is dead." My voice rang clear across the makeshift clearing.

No one moved. No one spoke. Just stared at me like I was either insane or suicidal. Probably both.

"You heard me. Your leader is dead. I felt it happen."

A burly man with a jagged scar across his face stepped forward. "And why should we believe some pup who wandered in here? Who the hell are you?"

I straightened my spine, raised my chin. "I'm his son."

The silence shattered. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some laughed. Others reached for weapons.

"Vaughn has no son," someone called out.