Vortiger Tower – Executive Wing, 9:41 A.M.
Cassien had never knocked on Lucian’s door. Not once in thirteen years.
This morning, he did.
The sound echoed in the corridor like a crack in glass. Three measured raps on a door too heavy, too polished, too quiet. For thirteen years, he’d walked in unannounced, an unspoken brotherly privilege. But today, the weight of what he carried made the air between his knuckles and the mahogany swell like pressure before a storm.
“Come in,” Lucian’s smooth voice called from within.
Cassien pushed the door open and stepped inside, boots muted by the Persian rug. He noticed immediately how spotless everything looked. Lucian’s office was a mirror of restraint, a polished mahogany desk gleaming as though someone had just wiped it down. There was no clutte
