Evangeline’s POV:
Vladimir Volkovich strode into the penthouse behind her, like he owned the world.
He hadn't aged much — that was the first thing I noticed, my stomach turning. He still carried that same domineering air, the same brutal confidence.
An older version of Orion — but harder, colder. The resemblance was there in the shape of the jaw, the cut of the shoulders — but the eyes were different.
Where Orion's sometimes flickered with warmth, humanity, Vladimir's were pure ice.
And then there was the scar — the white line that carved down his face, marring the otherwise sharp features like a brand. He didn't look furious like Mary did.
No, he looked almost... amused.
That was worse.
Far worse.
Neven immediately moved forward, bowing his head low, the panic he'd worn earlier
