The grand hall of Pride’s palace glittered like a gilded blade, enchanted chandeliers casting amber light across marble floors, firelight dancing in the archways, and shadows curling in time with infernal music. All seven princes of Hell had gathered under one roof. A rarity. A warning.

Wrath sat high above the crowd, detached but watchful, armored in black and gold. He had no interest in the politics masked as indulgence, no patience for the slow circling of predators in silk. But then she walked in.

She didn’t come from his court. Didn’t carry a sigil. She entered at Lust’s side, fingers resting lightly on his arm, lips painted like blood, gaze sharp as a blade. She moved with confidence, but not arrogance. Like someone who knew exactly how much danger she was in—and chose to walk into it anyway.

Wrath’s hand tightened around the stem of his glass.

Her eyes met his.

And she didn’t look away.

That was the first mistake.

From a balcony above the ballroom, Pride stood silent, unmoving, arms resting along the marble rail. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The tension rolling off Wrath was already commanding the room’s attention. Beside him, Envy arched a brow and leaned in to murmur, “Well. This just became interesting.”

Greed, reclined lazily with his boots crossed on the table’s edge, chuckled. “I give it a week before Wrath drags her back to his court and pretends it’s about strategy.”

Further down the table, Gluttony swirled something dark in his glass. “She doesn’t move like prey,” he said softly. “She knows she’s being hunted. And she likes it.”

Sloth, half-asleep in a velvet chair, cracked one eye open. “Wake me when someone bleeds.”

Back on the ballroom floor, Wrath stood, slow and deliberate. He descended the dais with silent purpose, the crowd parting for him instinctively. He didn’t look at anyone else. Only her.

Lust leaned toward her as Wrath approached. “And here I thought you might be boring.”

She didn’t respond. Her gaze stayed locked on Wrath’s.

He stopped a breath away.

“You’re not what they said you’d be,” he said, voice like fire held in iron. “And what did they say?” she asked calmly. Wrath studied her. “They said you were harmless.”

A flicker of a smile ghosted her lips, not flirtatious, but something sharper.

That’s when Lust slid in like smoke, all perfume and pleasure and practiced timing.

“Careful, brother,” he purred. “You’re staring like she’s a prize you intend to claim. I thought you preferred your blades cold, not warm.”

“I prefer honesty,” Wrath replied, eyes still locked on her. “She hasn’t given me any yet.”

“She’s given me plenty,” Lust said with a grin. “Tell him what you told me earlier, darling. About why you came. About how you weren’t here for politics. Or princes.”

She didn’t blink. “I said I came to observe. No one asked which of you I intended to observe.”

Lust gave a pleased sound. “Isn’t she fun?”

Wrath’s jaw flexed. “Fun,” he repeated.

Lust leaned closer, voice velvet-smooth. “Don’t tell me I’ve found someone who can crack that armor of yours. We should mark the date, it’ll become legend in all seven Circles.”

Wrath turned, slow and cold. “Don’t start what you’re not prepared to finish, Lust.”

“Oh, I never finish,” Lust said with a wink. “That’s the point.”

Then, low against Wrath’s ear, he added with a grin, “But if she’s going to ruin you, brother… I’d like a front row seat.”

Above them, Pride finally smiled.

And the court kept watching.