Whitefish River always protect ya neck

His lips firmed into a straight line at the question, eyes darkening a little. Did he hurt her back? He supposed he had, in the moment. . .but obviously he hadn't finished the job. Had been given the chance, at Easthollow, and would forever regret not taking it. Fuck him for caring about Rusalka in that moment, he guessed.

Plus he'd been too paralyzed with shock to really act. She just had killed a fucking kid, after all.

Not afterward, Verx finally said, looking rueful. I never had the chance. If I do, though. . . He shrugged, blinking at his son. It's not about me. I'm more afraid of her coming around and hurting you or Isi if she thinks that'll hurt me. Killing her won't heal my throat. . .but it'll keep y'all safe. That's mainly why I'd do it.

Did he think of taking revenge against his torturer? He had to. Anyone would, in his paws. But Vercingetorix knew that route would lead to disappointment at worst and death at best; he certainly wanted to dissuade Dragomir from any rash actions he might have taken at that age.

Then again, Drago was already a billion times smarter than his impulsive sire. So. There was that.