Page 99 of Forbidden Empire
I leaned forward, my fingertips hovering over the blueprint.
"Here's our approach."
The door crashed against the wall before I could continue.
Esme appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the hallway light.
Four hands moved to four weapons in perfect synchronicity, then stopped mid-motion.
The room went still. Esme. Here.
Zeno was the first to snap, “You shouldn’t be here!”
Without flinching, she closed the distance in three sure steps, dropped a folder onto the table with a dull slap, and leveled us with a gaze that dared us to move. Unbothered, she glanced at Zeno’s pointed finger, a slow, wicked brow arching.
“Try to stop me, dear brother,” she murmured, mouth curling into a smirk. The challenge hovered, thick and electric, between us.
My eyes locked on her before I could stop myself. The black satin of her blouse caught the light as she moved, the fabric shifting against her body with each breath.
Her hair was pinned up, but rebellious strands had worked themselves free to frame her face, drawing attention to the yellowing bruises beneath.
Those marks were healing day by day, though the memory of her injuries still cut through me like a blade.
She was a force of nature standing there. But what held me captive was the steel in her gaze, that unflinching challenge that dared anyone to question her presence.
I adjusted my position, fighting for composure as I watched her square off against the others.
Her chin tilted upward, eyes narrowing as if silently daring them to try removing her from the room.
The already dense atmosphere in my office transformed instantly, charged particles seeming to dance in the space between us, her arrival turning our careful détente into something far more combustible.
“Esme. Sit,” I said, nodding at the empty chair beside Ares. “Tell us what’s in the folder.”
She inhaled, deep, steadying, then let it out. “It’s my contribution.”
“Nobody asked you to get involved,” Zeno snarled.
She shot him a look, cool and edged. “Didn’t realize I needed an invitation, Zeno. Did you get yours delivered by pigeon, or…?”
The sarcasm dripped off every syllable, baiting him, and she didn’t even bother to hide it. Their battles were old, ugly, bruised from years inside the ring. I knew better than to step in.
“We’re all here for a reason,” I said. “That includes Esme.”
"Thank you, Aidon," she murmured.
Her smile cut through the professional facade I'd constructed for this meeting like a stiletto through silk.
"I've gathered intel on Rhea, everything from guard rotations to property holdings. But the real prize?" She tapped amanicured nail against the folder. "Access codes. Not just her digital systems, but banking credentials. Those offshore accounts funding her operation? We could freeze them with a keystroke."
Thal leaned forward, elbows on the table. His gaze traveled from the folder up to Esme's face, then dropped to where her blouse gaped open at the collar. My fingers tightened around my glass until I feared it might shatter.
"What's your angle here?" he asked, while his eyes remained predatory.
“To help,” Esme said, brittle and blasé. “I want to see her destroyed just as much as the rest of you.”
Thal’s gaze lingered, his nod slow, deliberate. “Is that so? Why?”
She shrugged, evasive. “I have my reasons.”
