The man I recognised. The lawyer who brought the wedding papers. Sleazy smile, expensive watch, and looking uncomfortable for some reason.
But the women?
One was young, too young to be here. Slender, stylish, and lips painted the shade of coral.
The other… she was older. Beautiful in a quiet, aristocratic way, her features were sharp, but there was something so achingly familiar in the arch of her cheekbones. The shape of her mouth.
And then it hit me.
She looked like me.
Older. Hardened. And polished by the years I hadn’t yet lived.
I stood awkwardly, breath caught in my chest. I opened my mouth to apologise and step back, but his voice stopped me.
“Come in.”
Rough. Gravelly and absolute.
I lifted my head.
And saw him.
Zagreus Vitale, behind his mahogany desk like a monarch carved from dusk. Sleeves rolled up, revealing those forearms, tanned, veined, and marked by living. His powder blue shirt made his skin look darker, more severe. The scar on his cheek caught the light, and my insides churned for all the wrong reasons.
His eyes met mine. Grey. Smouldering and commanding. Daring me.
I got the message.
Behave. Or bleed.
So I did what I always did lately.
I obeyed.
I stepped inside. Quiet as winter and small as guilt.
But my heart was beating loudly in my ears.
Because something was happening in that room.
And I wasn’t ready.
CHAPTER FORTY
Silence Talks
There was a chair waiting for me.
Of course there was. A silent throne with its back perfectly straight and its upholstery too pristine for someone like me to sit on. I hesitated briefly, but that second cost me the power. I felt it drain out of me.
“Sit,” Zagreus commanded.
So I did.
My legs carried me forward with the grace of a condemned woman. I lowered myself onto the seat, back too stiff, knees too close together. My fingers found one another in my lap and began their ritual of nervous fidgeting.
Silence settled, the air shifted.
