Azeelia Cole
The heavy oak doors closed behind me, shutting out the muted noise of the city street.
I expected a nightclub—pulsing lights, thumping bass, and a crowded dance floor. Instead, The Obsidian Lounge felt like a sanctuary for monsters. Gold-leaf ceilings arched over velvet armchairs, marble bars, and dimly lit private booths. Men in hand-tailored suits sat with high-ranking politicians, talking in quiet, measured tones over crystal glasses of amber liquor.
This wasn't a party. It was an executive boardroom for the criminal underworld.
My pulse hammered in my throat as I walked deeper into the room. Ethan’s black keycard felt heavy inside my clutch. Standing here, surrounded by the elite of the city's power structure, the truth hit me with devastating clarity. Ethan hadn't jus
