Viktor chuckled low, the sound deep and rough, like gravel grinding under boots. His scar shifted with the curve of his lips, and for the first time in years, it wasn’t bitter amusement—it was genuine.
“You’ve got fire,” he said, his eyes narrowing with something sharper than curiosity. “Not many dare to look me in the eye, let alone throw words back at me. But you—” He shook his head with a laugh that sounded almost disbelieving. “You’re either reckless or brilliant. I can’t decide which yet.”
Selene tilted her chin, refusing to let him see the small ripple of unease in her chest. “Maybe I’m both.”
That earned another laugh, low and dangerous, but softer this time. He leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she were a puzzle no one else could solve.
“I like her, Adrian,” Vikt
