Ivan smiled. But there was no warmth in it. Just the promise of blood. Zane’s breath caught in his throat. Ivan didn’t move, not yet. He simply stood in the doorway like he belonged to another age—an era of war, of conquests, of iron and fire. A beast cut loose. The waiting room had frozen in his presence. Servants had halted mid-step. A maid’s tray trembled in her hands. One of the house guards standing at the edge of the corridor took a visible step back. Zane blinked, trying to understand why his legs wanted to bolt. He had never seen this man before yet his body reacted like it recognized something ancient. Primal. He glanced instinctively toward the corridor that led to Fyodor’s wing. It remained still. Silent. No footsteps. No presence. No judgment. As if the old man was choosing not to see what had just walked through his doors. That absence sent a new kind of chill down Zane’s spine. Joana watched from the upper landing, one hand resting on the banister, her other clutc
Last Updated : 2025-05-17
