Voren leaned back in his chair, his mind racing faster than his calm exterior allowed anyone to see, because the possibility that Leon might have already opened his mouth about what really happened had been gnawing at him ever since Seraphine stepped into the room.
At the sa ti, another thought crawled through his mind, darker and far more irritating, that Seraphine might simply be testing him, playing one of those subtle mind gas she was infamous for, where she threw out accusations just to watch who cracked first.
Instead of giving away anything that might betray him, Voren curled his lips into a cold, sarcastic smile and answered in a tone dripping with mockery.
"Among the long list of people who want you dead," he said slowly, letting the words hang in the air, "I’m the first in line, so tell why the fuck I would suddenly decide to save your life."
The mont the words left his mouth, the air inside the office grew so thick with tension that it felt almost suffocating.
Seraphine’s gaze darkened instantly, but she was not the only one reacting.
Beside her, Corvine’s jaw tightened so hard that the grinding of his teeth beca faintly audible in the quiet room, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he had to physically restrain himself from lunging across the desk.
The office itself was massive, filled with polished marble floors, towering glass windows, and expensive furniture that scread wealth and power, yet in that mont the luxurious space felt painfully cramped, like the walls were slowly closing in around the three of them.
None of them had expected Voren to say anything pleasant.
Still, hearing him casually declare that he wanted her dead carried a sting Seraphine had not anticipated.
She stood there for a mont, watching him carefully, her thoughts tangled between suspicion and sothing colder.
"I already know Leon is covering for soone," Seraphine said at last, her voice calm but laced with a dangerous edge. "And honestly, I have no intention of forcing anything out of him, because his world works very differently from ours and I understand that."
Her eyes never left Voren’s face. "Your scent was all over that night," she continued slowly, every word pressing harder than the last. "So don’t you think it sounds pretty damn ridiculous for him to claim he saved my life when I could still taste the anti-wolfsbane serum in my mouth?"
She leaned forward slightly over the desk, her expression sharpening as irritation burned behind her eyes.
"So tell sothing," she asked bluntly, her voice dropping lower, rougher, "where the fuck did he get it?"
For the briefest mont, Voren felt his throat tighten. Dealing with clever people had always been irritating, but dealing with a clever woman who refused to let anything slide felt like walking through a field of hidden blades.
He swallowed slowly, forcing his expression back into one of indifference.
"I gave him access to my room because everything happened at my club," he said, his voice cool and steady, though his dark gaze carried a shadow of annoyance. "That alone explains why my scent was everywhere around you."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against the desk as his eyes flickered with sothing darker.
"As for everything else," he added, letting the words drag out with quiet bitterness, "your doctor boyfriend was practically glued to you the entire night."
Seraphine watched him carefully, studying every twitch of his face, every subtle movent that might betray a lie.
After a mont, a faint smile curved across her lips. For reasons even she could not fully explain, what she had sensed that night still felt like the truth.
"If you’re not going to tell anything about that," she said calmly, her eyes narrowing just a little, "then the least you can do is tell who the hell poisoned with wolfsbane."
The question landed like a stone thrown into still water. Voren’s entire body stiffened.
Of course he already knew the answer. Gray and Riven would eventually pay for their stupidity, and he had already decided that much long before Seraphine walked into this office today.
Even so, the idea of being the one to expose them left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He leaned back again, folding his arms as his expression hardened.
"Why would I give a damn about whoever tried to poison you?" he asked coldly. "You were never invited there by in the first place, so technically speaking you were on your own."
Every word he spoke poured fuel onto the anger already burning inside Seraphine.
Her mind raced through possibilities, calculating her next move with ruthless precision.
If there had been caras from that night, she would have already hacked into them and dragged the truth out of the footage within minutes.
Unfortunately, the entire event had been designed to guarantee privacy for every mber in attendance.
So no caras, no recordings, and no witnesses willing to talk. It was the perfect environnt for secrets to bury themselves.
"Fine," Seraphine said coldly, lifting her chin slightly as determination hardened her voice. "Then I’ll start with the waiter who served that drink."
Instead of reacting with concern, Voren simply smiled. It was a small smile, faint and almost amused.
"You won’t find him," he replied smoothly. "I already dealt with him."
The words struck Corvine like a slap. His eyes widened slightly as he turned toward Voren, confusion flashing across his face.
A mont ago Voren had insisted he did not care whether Seraphine lived or died.
So why would he bother dealing with the waiter? Unless he was hiding sothing, or unless that explanation was just another lie covering an even bigger secret.
"I don’t believe you," Seraphine said flatly.
Voren did not argue. Instead, he reached for a pen lying on the desk, pulled a blank sheet of paper closer, and scribbled down a phone number with quick strokes before sliding the paper across the desk toward her.
"That’s the agency we hired him from," he said. "His na is Francis More."
He leaned back again, lifting one shoulder slightly in a careless gesture.
"We never deal with those people directly," he added. "So I don’t have his personal contact information."
Seraphine picked up the paper without hesitation. Within seconds she had already dialed the number. The phone rang once, then twice.
On the second ring, soone picked up. "Free Hospitality Assistants," a polite voice answered from the other side. "How may I help you today?"
Seraphine’s gaze remained locked on Voren as she spoke. "I’m calling to report one of your staff mbers," she said calmly. "His na is Francis More."
There was a brief pause, then the woman on the other end responded almost imdiately.
"You’re a little late, ma’am," she said casually. "He was already fired, and honestly no other agency in this industry will employ him now."
Seraphine felt her brows pull together slightly. "He should be out of the country by now," the woman continued, the line went quiet after that.
Seraphine slowly lowered the phone, her expression unreadable as her eyes returned to Voren. For a mont, neither of them spoke.
Then she ended the call. "Thank you for the information," she said calmly, though the coldness in her voice carried a sharp edge.
Her attention returned fully to Voren as she leaned a little closer to the desk. "Voren," she said slowly, her tone turning dangerously soft, "you’re going to give the na of whoever sent that waiter."
Without waiting for his answer, her hand reached toward the stack of docunts resting on the desk between them.
"I suggest you choose wisely," she continued, her fingers already gripping the papers. "Because if you don’t start talking right now, I’m canceling our collaboration."
She lifted the docunts slightly, the sound of rustling paper filling the tense silence.
"And trust ," she added quietly, her eyes burning with warning, "I won’t hesitate to tear these apart."
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