Reign:
The black limo idled like a predator at the curb of The Windsor Tower. I checked my phone again—emails, messages, nothing worth noticing—but my thumb lingered, stroking the smooth metal of the device as I pulled up the security cameras that showed Ellie in the elevator, my other hand pressing against the weight in my pocket. The ring. Emerald-cut, platinum band, hidden halo. Cold. Elegant. Heavy enough to feel like a promise, light enough to leave room for chaos. I’d spent hours this morning circling the glittering displays, tasting each option until the one that screamed Ellie sat in my palm. Now it waited for her.
I glanced at the revolving door. Still nothing. My chest stayed surprisingly calm. For once, patience wasn’t my weakness; it was the weapon.
Then she appeared.
Ellie
