Hawkeye had stopped several paces behind her. She glanced back momentarily, and saw him lock eyes with the Earl. Something passed between them in that moment, deep and dark and filled with power.
Hawkeye spoke, never breaking eye contact. His voice was low and steady, quite different from his usual tone, and filled with authority. The voice of leaders. Of generals. Of tyrants.
The entire factory floor slowly lowered their weapons. A gap opened between father and son, and they stepped towards each other. The Earl, hateful and strong. Her Hawkeye, wounded but not beaten.
“Ilse-Lorenz,” said the Earl. Dieter’s infuriatingly calm smile had clearly come from his father, Elletra observed.
“Father,” said Hawkeye.
“I knew you would be here tonight. This blood – our blood – could never resist the allure of power.”
They came to a stop. Elletra started towards him, but he broke eye contact to plead with her.
This is my father, she read, and I must face him alone.
Then he turned back.