Harold was still in the northeast corner of the warehouse where Marcus had positioned him...backed against the wall, two of Marcus's people flanking him, his hands raised in the specific posture of someone who had done the calculation and understood that compliance was currently the better option. Marcus stood several feet away, his expression doing the thing it did when he was managing something with significant effort.
Harold saw Damien's face when he turned.
Whatever Harold saw there made something happen in his expression... something that moved quickly through calculation and landed somewhere adjacent to fear before he controlled it. He pressed his back harder against the wall. His chin came up with the specific defiance of someone trying to maintain dignity in an undignified position.
"Blackwood," Harold said. His voice was controlled. Barely. "Whatever you're thinking right now..."
"Don't," Damien said.
