Adam didn't even think.
The words left him sharp and immediate, like instinct had grabbed the mic before his mind could edit the line.
"Over my dead body."
For a moment, even Max looked surprised.
Max's throat worked once. "Adam—"
Adam sat forward, whiskey glass forgotten, posture suddenly taut with anger that was too focused to be sloppy. "No," he cut in. "Don't 'Adam' me. Don't try to calm me down like I'm being dramatic."
Max's gaze sharpened. "You don't get a vote in that marriage."
Adam's smile flashed, all teeth. "Try me."
Max stared at him for a beat, then exhaled slowly, like he was recalculating the room again.
"I'm not asking for permission," Max said, voice controlled. "I'm telling you what George is demanding." He let out a long breath, and for a second the polished edge of him dulled into something more human. "He will erase you, or anyone who stands between him and his plan."
Adam's face sharpened. Outrage flared so fast it almost looked like heat.
