Laila's pov
The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the towering windows of Adrian Voss's office — cold, indifferent, just like the man behind the desk.
I stepped inside, the click of the door announcing my return like a challenge. The storm outside had long since passed, but the storm between us was just beginning.
Adrian didn't look up immediately. His fingers drummed the polished mahogany with a quiet impatience, eyes dark and unreadable.
"Late," he said flatly.
I met his gaze without flinching. "I'm here. That's what matters."
He finally looked up, his eyes sharp as knives, cutting through the calm I tried to wear. "You disappeared. You left me with nothing but questions — and consequences."
My jaw tightened. "I had to disappear. You didn't give me a choice."
A flicker of something—resentment? Hurt?—passed through his gaze. "You think this is just about choice? About you?"
"No," I said, voice low but fierce. "It's about trust. And you broke it."
Adrian stood, closing the distance between us with slow, measured steps. "I broke trust because I had to protect you. From yourself. From everything that's coming."
I laughed—bitter, raw. "Protect me? By controlling me? By making me sign a contract like a prisoner?"
He stopped just inches away. The scent of cedar and something darker filled the air.
"I did what was necessary," he said softly. "Even if it meant becoming the villain in your story."
"And what story is that?" I asked, voice trembling. "The one where I'm your pawn? Your property?"
Adrian's eyes flashed with something unreadable—pain, anger, maybe something close to regret. "You're not property. You're the one person who could destroy me… or save me."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
A message from an unknown number: "They're watching. Be careful who you trust."
I glanced up, locking eyes with Adrian. The room seemed to pulse with silent threats and unspoken truths.
"Who do you trust?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Adrian's jaw clenched. "No one. Not even me."
A sharp knock at the door broke the tension. We both turned.
Rafe stepped in, eyes cold and calculating, the unspoken history between the three of us hanging heavy in the air.
"This isn't just a fight for control," Rafe said. "It's a war of secrets, lies, and betrayals. And it's only just begun."
Adrian's gaze hardened. "Then let's make sure you both know who's really in charge."
The air crackled with tension, past wounds reopening, alliances shifting like sand.
I realized with a sick thrill that this wasn'tjust a battle for power—it was a war for my soul.