Orion sat buried beneath a mountain of documents—the inevitable aftermath of his overseas trips. The faint scratch of a pen and the soft rustle of paper filled the office, the only sounds breaking the still air.
Across from him, Chris worked methodically through a stack of files, his focus absolute.
Then—
A sharp, crushing pressure seized Orion’s chest. His breath faltered. The pen froze mid-signature, ink bleeding into the page.
Something’s wrong.
Before the thought could fully form, his instincts took over. He shot to his feet, scattering folders across the desk.
Chris jerked upright, alarm flashing in his eyes.
“Orion?”
Orion’s gaze had already snapped toward the back door—the private passage Freya always used. His voice came out low, strained.
“Freya.”
The name alone carried
