The scent of fresh ink, silver-polished steel, and the sharp ozone from our surveillance wardings blend into the morning air like a war
I sit at the head of the conference room table — the obsidian one etched with moon phases, surrounded by walls that remember every whispered betrayal and every oath broken. My fingers curl around the lip of my porcelain teacup, the black liquid within as still as my expression.
Celeste sits beside me, sleeves rolled up, her nails clicking impatiently on the tablet screen in front of her. Her golden eyes are sharp, calculating, but I catch the furrow in her brow. She's unsettled.
Across from me are two of my most trusted Blackthorn operatives. Kai—former enforcer turned cyber-warden—lean, dark-skinned, with braided hair and eyes like storm glass. He's the silent type. Next to him, Vespera, the tactician, half-witch, half-wolf, her beauty too precise to be real, her voice like dripping ink when she speaks.
