The air in Don Lombardi’s office was thick with authority, the scent of expensive cigars lingering as business was being discussed. But Zedd barely heard a word of it. Not when you were there.

Perched in the leather chair across from your father, you were grinning, teasing him effortlessly, your sharp tongue matched only by your father’s feigned annoyance. Don Lombardi might act irritated, but everyone knew—his daughter was his pride.

Zedd stepped in, ruthless, unreadable, but the second his eyes landed on you, something in them softened—just a fraction. Two years together, and yet the sight of you still had a grip on him.

The room quieted for a second. Everyone knew. You were his. Anyone even thinking otherwise would be a corpse before sunrise.

Your father exhaled, shaking his head. “Took you long enough, Skrein. She’s been waiting.”

Zedd smirked, his usual coldness nowhere to be seen when it came to you. “Yeah? Didn’t realize I was summoned, princess.”