The Tesla’s climate control kept the interior at exactly 68 degrees.
Ava’s hands were still cold.
Manhattan Monday morning traffic crawled past the tinted windows: yellow cabs and delivery trucks and thousands of people who had no idea that demons walked among them, that supernatural law firms occupied the top floors of midtown high-rises, that the woman in the passenger seat had bound her soul to an immortal being over the weekend.
Victor drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers across the center console. His tension bled through like heat through glass—banked, controlled, but impossible to hide. He was worried about her. About how the office would receive them. About what Lilith might do next.
“Stop trying to hide it,” she said. “I can feel you worrying.”
“I’m not—” He caught her look. “Fine. I’m concerned about the reception.”
“Because of the bond?”
“Because of how fast it happened. Because of Prague. Because half the firm watched Lilith throw a tantrum and disappear in a cloud of sulfur, and the other half has been texting about it all weekend.” His thumb traced circles on her palm. “There will be questions. Speculation. People deciding they know our story better than we do.”
“So we give them nothing to speculate about. We’re together. It’s real. End of story.”
“If only office politics were that simple.”
The building appeared ahead: glass and steel reaching toward a sky that had gone overcast since they’d left the penthouse. Ava watched it grow larger through the windshield, trying to imagine walking through those doors as someone different than she’d been Friday morning.
Three weeks ago, she’d been a terrified first-year associate who’d accidentally breached a supernatural NDA.
Now she was soul-bonded to a senior partner.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
Victor pulled into the parking garage with the precision of someone who’d been parking in this same spot for decades. The engine cut off. Silence rushed in.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
They got out anyway.
The elevator climbed toward sixty-one, floors ticking past with mechanical indifference.
Victor’s hand stayed firm in hers. Warmth rolled off him in deliberate, slow waves—meant to soothe her nerves. It helped, though she wasn’t sure she liked needing the help.
The doors opened.
Cassandra looked up from the reception desk, took one look at them, and smiled, the first genuine smile Ava had seen from her. “Welcome back. Derek’s been pacing since dawn. I think he wore a groove in the carpet.”
“Is it bad?” Ava asked.
“It’s Monday at a supernatural law firm. Could always be worse.” Cassandra’s amber eyes flicked to their joined hands, to the visible marks peeking above their collars. Her chin dipped, just barely, the smallest nod of approval. “Malphas wants to see you both. His office, when you’re ready. And Ava?”
“Yes?”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s real.” She turned back to her screens before Ava could respond.
They walked through the foyer together, and the reactions began immediately.
Associates looked up from their desks like prairie dogs sensing a predator. Conversations stopped mid-sentence, leaving awkward silences that filled with the sound of their footsteps on marble. A woman from contracts held a coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth, eyes tracking them with naked curiosity. A paralegal pretended to read a document that was clearly upside down.
Ava kept her spine straight, her expression neutral, her hand firmly in Victor’s.
