Killian

I told Jace I was reviewing security protocols. That was the reason I gave for being at the clinic, and it was even partly true.

The building was quiet at that hour, too quiet. I had always loved the interior of my office here. A mahogany desk, a sleek couch that costs a million dollars and softer lighting than a normal hospital. I always came here on many occasions where I needed to think, as my office was on the last floor and off limits to just anyone. 

A technician walked me through camera placement on the second floor while I only half listened, my attention somewhere else entirely, though I couldn’t have said where.

Then the air changed.

I didn’t have a word for it at first. Just a shift, subtle, something moving through the hallway that made the back of my neck prickle and my hand tighten slightly at my side. The technician kept talking but I had stopped hearing him.

“Sir?”

“Fine.” I made myself focus on his mouth, on the words coming out of it, though none of them landed properly. “Keep going.”

He did, and I nodded along at intervals, and the entire time some low, restless pull sat behind my ribs that I couldn’t explain. By the time the walkthrough ended I told myself it had passed, whatever it was. Fatigue, maybe. I hadn’t slept well in days.

Jace was waiting by the car when I came down, scrolling through something on his phone.

“You’re quiet,” he said, once we were both inside and pulling into traffic.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not like this.” He glanced over, that particular assessing look he’d perfected over seventeen years of working for me, the one that missed almost nothing. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

“The council meeting is bothering me. Silas and Vlag spent an hour reminding me I’m running out of time.”

“Fair enough.” He let it go, mostly, though I caught him watching me a beat longer than the explanation warranted. “The vetting on the surrogate candidate should be done by end of week. You still want to move forward with her specifically?”

I thought of the photograph. Tired eyes, a guarded set to her mouth, nothing that should have stayed with me the way it had. “Yes.”

“Any particular reason, or is this still a coincidence?”

I didn’t answer that, and he didn’t push, and the rest of the drive passed in a silence that felt heavier than it should have for something I kept insisting to myself was nothing at all.

That night, I stood at my penthouse window with a half finished glass of vodka, looking out at a city I usually found easy to ignore. My grandmother used to tell stories when I was young, about wolves who knew their mate the instant they crossed paths, some old instinct that cut through everything modern life had layered over it. I hadn’t thought about those stories in years. I’d dismissed them a long time ago as something meant for children, or for a version of the world that didn’t survive contact with boardrooms and council politics and the particular, grinding loneliness of running an empire alone.

I told myself the feeling in that hallway had nothing to do with any of that.

I told myself a lot of things that week, and most of them didn’t hold up for very long.

Two days later, Jace came into my office with a folder and a look I didn’t like.

“Her labs cleared. Everything’s on track for the procedure next week.” He set the folder down but didn’t sit, which meant there was more. “There’s a protocol wrinkle, though. Standard practice for a first time surrogate is a brief in person meeting before the procedure. Signatures, informed consent, that kind of thing. Normally I’d handle it on your behalf.”

Something in me went very still. “Normally.”

“You could still have me handle it.” He was watching me carefully now, like he already suspected what I’d say before I said it. “Or you could go yourself. I’m not sure which one is the smarter move, honestly. I just thought you should decide, rather than me deciding for you.”

I looked down at the folder without opening it, aware of some reckless, unfamiliar impulse pushing up under years of careful control.

“I’ll go,” I said.

Jace didn’t respond right away. When he did, his voice was quieter than usual, like he was choosing the words with more care than required.

“Alright.” He gathered the folder back up. “I’ll set it up.”

He left, and I sat alone in my office a long while after, brooding over a decision I didn’t entirely understand, aware only that some part of me had already made it before the rest of me caught up.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​