Mag-log in- WILLOWThe fresh morning air in the third-floor administrative wing hit my face.I tapped my ID card against the glass reader of the central logistics server room, shoved the heavy door open, and stopped dead right in front of the primary terminal.Lucille was standing there in her crisp lavender suit jacket, her fingers flying over my keyboard as if she was playing a frantic piano solo. Open on the main monitor was my master directory, the exact Sector Four audit files I spent three weeks color-coding, cross-referencing, and locking down with dual-layer encryption."What the hell are you doing on my terminal, Lucille?" I asked quietly, and deadly calm.Lucille jumped like she’d just been zapped by a cattle prod, her shoulders snapping up toward her ears. She yanked her hands away from the keyboard, spinning around with a blotchy, bright red face. For a second, she looked like a deer caught in high-beam headlights. Then that smug, venomous little grin slid right back onto her mouth.
- WILLOWA sudden, piercing screech shattered the midnight quiet.The bright red perimeter alarm on the wall above the doorway exploded into a flashing, strobing light, its harsh siren echoing violently through the palace guest wing.Dexter was off the bed in a split second, his warlord instincts kicking in before he was even fully upright. He grabbed his tactical belt from the chair, his dark eyes instantly snapping into cold, lethal focus."Breach alarm," Dexter growled, pulling his sidearm from its holster with a sharp clack. "Eastern wing perimeter just got blown."Dexter was already at the balcony door before the second wave of the siren could finish echoing. He pulled the glass panel back with one sharp jerk, his dark eyes locked on the courtyard below. He jammed his tactical belt around his waist, checking the magazine clip on his sidearm with a quick, practiced click."Stay inside the bedroom, Willow," Dexter said sternly, without leaving room for debate. "Don't open the door
- WILLOWThe digital clock on the nightstand read 1:42 AM when the heavy glass latch on my balcony door gave a faint click.I didn't jump. I was already wide awake, sitting propped up against the headboard in my grey hoodie, my phone still resting face-down on the duvet. The dark screen was still burning in my mind, holding those three high-res photos of Dexter sitting under crystal chandeliers with a beautiful woman in emerald silk.The balcony door swung open smoothly, letting in a gust of cool night air and the scent of rain.Dexter stepped into the bedroom, closing the glass panel quietly behind him. He looked wrecked. His dark hair was windblown, his collar unbuttoned, and his black formal jacket was tossed casually over one shoulder. He looked like he had just sprinted five miles through the mountain brush straight from the capital pavilion."Hey, Princess," he murmured, his deep voice filled with exhaustion as he tossed his coat onto the foot of my bed. "You're still up.""Hard
- WILLOWMy mother was sitting on the sunlit terrace, wearing a soft cream cardigan, sipping chamomile tea while flipping through a botanical sketchpad. It had been nearly two weeks since I'd had a quiet moment to sit with her properly between the assembly prep and Dexter's mountain estate."Willow, darling, it's been a long time since you last came." She smiled, her warm gray eyes lighting up as she set her tea cup down. "You look exhausted, darling. Come sit."I dropped into the cushioned wicker chair across from her, letting out a long, heavy sigh that felt like it came from the bottom of my lungs. "The administrative clerks are a nightmare today, Mom.""Lucille again?" Josephine asked gently, pouring a second cup of tea and sliding it toward me."Lucille, the Lambert family, the whole capital," I muttered, taking the warm cup in both hands. "Everyone's obsessed with who Dexter is supposed to marry."Josephine looked at me for a long, quiet moment, her eyes soft with that deep, mat
- WILLOWThe light hit the third-floor administrative wing, but the energy in the room was instantly foul.I stopped dead in my tracks three feet from my desk.What the fuck?!My keyboard was upside down in the recycling bin. Three weeks of color-coded Sector Four shipping manifests were scattered all over the carpet like confetti, and somebody had dumped a cold, half-empty cup of dark hazelnut coffee right over my primary ledger monitor. The dark liquid was still dripping slowly off the bottom bezel, landing with a wet splat onto my mousepad.Standing near the water cooler five feet away was Lucille.She was wearing a tailored lavender dress suit, her blonde hair pinned back in an intricate capital style, holding a porcelain mug like she owned the entire floor. Lord Ronin's high-ranking position made her spend most of her workdays walking around like her family crest gave her immunity from basic human decency."Oh, good afternoon, Willow," Lucille purred, taking a slow sip from her m
- WILLOWThe heavy oak doors to Noah’s private office clicked shut behind us.Noah didn't even look up from behind his massive mahogany desk when we walked in. He was leaning back in his leather chair, holding a crystal glass of amber liquid in one hand and flipping through a thick blue folder with the other. "You two took your sweet time," Noah said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "I was about ten minutes away from sending a squad to pull you out of the burger joint.""Willow was eating," Dexter said smoothly, dropping into one of the plush velvet armchairs across from the desk and kicking his long legs out. "And I don't disrupt a woman when she's dealing with a double bacon cheeseburger.""I was processing high-society garbage," I corrected, sitting down in the chair next to Dexter and setting my crossbody bag on the floor. "Which, by the way, tasted worse than the food."Noah raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips as he looked between the two of us. "Ah. S







