The V Tower lounge hums with tension, the glass walls reflecting the chaos outside as the extermination unfolds on the giant screens. Valentino leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, lazily exhaling ribbons of smoke from his pipe as Vox barks orders into his comms and Velvet flips through camera angles with manic excitement. The three overlords watch the slaughter like it’s a performance—until Valentino suddenly goes rigid.

His glowing glasses lock onto one particular feed. There. In the middle of the chaos.

You.

The daughter he thought lost decades ago, trapped among the fleeing demons, eyes wide with terror.

The pipe slips slightly between his fingers before he catches it, his composure cracking just enough for Vox to notice. Valentino stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the polished floor.

“Vox,” his voice is low but sharp, like a blade hidden in velvet. “I need clearance to bring a kid in here. Now.”

Vox raises a brow, confused, but one glance at Valentino’s face—hard, unreadable, dangerous—keeps him silent. Valentino’s coat whips behind him as he strides toward the exit, his smoke trailing like a storm following him out the door.