Page 66 of Celestial Combat

His voice was quiet, almost pitying.

But his eyes?

His eyes were that of a rat.

My office was the one place in this damn building where I could think.

Everything beyond these walls – Python’s underground fight club, the sprawling industrial corridors, the weight of the empire I’d built – was a storm. Buthere, behind black steel doors and dark wood, surrounded by amber lighting and the quiet hum of monitors, I had control.

At least, I usually did.

Tonight, I couldn’t focus for shit.

I sat at my desk, hands poised over my keyboard, trying to concentrate on lines of code running across the screen. Surveillance feeds flickered across multiple monitors – different corners of the city, movement detection programs, face-tracking software picking up the smallest irregularities. Trevor and Natalia were across from me, buried in intel, picking apart vulnerabilities in the Su Dynasty’s operations.

It should’ve been easy for me to help. I should’ve been analyzing the same data, helping Trevor find the rat in his organization before it became a problem too big to fix.

Instead, my mind was somewhere else.

Or rather, someone else.

Kali.

That almost-kiss on the fire escape had rooted itself into my bloodstream. I could still feel the warmth of her body, the way the city lights reflected off her skin, the moment she closed her eyes – ready for it. Ready for me.

But she’d hesitated.

It was brief, barely even there, but I’d caught it. And I’d pulled back before she could.

Because hesitation meant doubt.

And if I kissed her, if I crossed that line, I’d need her to be sure.

Now, days later, it was the only thing I could think about.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus, but the memory of her burned like a brand.

Trevor’s phone buzzed on the desk, slicing through the quiet. He glanced at the screen and answered without looking up. “Kali?”

There was a pause.

“Try again.”

The voice wasn’t hers.

It was male. Low. Deliberate. Sharp.

A slow, ice-cold chill unfurled in my chest.

Trevor stiffened. My fingers curled into fists.

“Tao?” Trevor’s voice was steady, controlled, but lethal beneath the surface.

I already knew the answer. We all did.

Tao had been one of Trevor’s soldiers for years – trusted, quiet, unremarkable. The kind of man who blended in too well. The kind of man you didn’t see until it was too late.

“If you want to see your sister alive,” Tao said smoothly, “you’ll listen carefully.”

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