Reign:
Flashes hit before the air even does.
Camera bulbs pop like gunfire, blinding and bright, and for a moment it almost feels like a hit—only this time the bullets are applause.
Ellie doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t even blink.
She steps out of the car like she was born of marble—shoulders back, chin high, eyes sharp enough to kill and smile just enough to make you thank her for it. The crowd parts like she’s royalty. Or a weapon. Maybe both.
I follow, deliberately slow, letting her have the spotlight. She wants it—needs it—and I’m not cruel enough to take it from her.
Not yet, anyway.
Besides, I’m enjoying the show.
Her hand rests lightly on my arm as we walk towards the doors to the hotel together. You wouldn’t notice the pressure unless you were me. It’s not affection—it’s con
