KILLIAN
The knock came just as I was finishing the last of the paperwork on my desk.
A firm, measured rhythm—one that carried too much confidence to belong to someone uncertain of their welcome. I already knew who it was before I opened the door.
Selene.
As I opened the door, I realized I was right. She stood there in the hallway, dressed in pale silk that made her look fragile, her lashes wet with what she clearly thought were convincing tears.
Her hands were clasped in front of her like a supplicant. But the gleam in her eyes gave her away. They weren’t the eyes of someone broken or repentant—they were calculating, testing me, gauging my reaction.
“Killian,” she whispered, her voice trembling as though it might shatter. “Please… let me in. I—I just need a moment with you. I prom
