LOGIN- WILLOWI was walking back from the supply closet holding a stack of blue folders when I heard them. Two junior administrative clerks were standing by the water cooler in the third-floor hallway, whispering back and forth like a couple of middle-schoolers trading gossip behind the bleachers."I'm telling you, it's some kind of dark charm," one of them hissed, her eyes darting over her shoulder as I turned the corner. "Nobody from Ashbourne Pack just walks in and wraps King Noah and Dexter around their finger like that. She definitely used a binding rune or some dirty magic.""Right?" the other one scoffed, loud enough for me to hear every word. "Look at her. Severed bond, zero family backing, and she's walking around like she owns the palace. Poor King Noah and Dexter don't even realize they're being played. Lord Lambert was right. She's just a parasite."I didn't stop walking. I didn't snap back or give them the satisfaction of seeing my hands shake. I just kept my stride steady, dr
- WILLOWThe grand reception room looked like a museum for people with way too much money and zero taste. Massive gold-framed oil paintings covered the high walls, and the marble floor was polished so bright people could see their own reflection looking back up at them.Lord Lambert was sitting on the velvet couch like a king on a fake throne. He had silver hair slicked back tight, wearing a sharp charcoal suit with a silver council pin pinned to his lapel. Sitting right beside him was a girl who couldn't have been older than twenty-two, dressed in an emerald green silk gown. She had perfect posture, her hands folded neatly in her lap, looking around the room like she was waiting for someone to clean the floor before she walked on it.Two heavy estate guards stood behind their couch, arms crossed, trying to look terrifying.Noah was leaning against the grand fireplace mantel, his arms folded, looking completely unbothered. Dexter stood a few feet away, hands jammed into his dark jack
- WILLOWThe private conference room attached to Noah’s office. I slammed the physical printout of Lucille’s data transfer log onto the glass table. The paper slid across the smooth surface and bumped right against Noah’s laptop."Look at the routing address," I said, leaning my hips against the edge of the table and crossing my arms. "She didn't just back up our files. She routed a live copy of our master tax ledgers straight to Sherlyn's private server in Sector Two."Noah leaned forward, tapping his chin with a pen as he scanned the IP headers. "Well, well. Looks like the rats are coordinating their schedules. Sherlyn must be planning a nice little surprise for us on the assembly floor.""A surprise?" I let out a dry, sharp laugh. "Try a frame job. They're going to stand up in front of fifty pack delegates tomorrow morning, wave these forged logs around, and scream that the ex-Ashbourne luna leaked internal state documents to sabotage the trade vote."Dexter was sitting on the cor
- 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







