Reign:
The car door slams behind me, the sound echoing in my empty house like punctuation.
Empty. For now. That’s perfect.
Lunch with Eleanor Windsor wasn’t exactly a victory parade—but it was entertaining. Watching her try to play it cool while sneaking glances at her laptop, typing commands like she was untouchable… God, I could’ve watched her all day.
I kick off my shoes, loosening my tie, and pour a glass of bourbon. Smooth. Sharp. Just like my patience today—thin, but intact.
Of course, she thinks she’s clever. Adjusting firewalls, clicking through logs, thinking I can’t see her little digital footprint.
I lean back in my chair, spinning slowly, imagining her tiny hands moving across the keyboard, her brow furrowed, lips pressed tight. I can practically hear the little hiss of
