Voren hesitated for a long beat, the thought of calling Ravyn, of telling him exactly where to et Seraphine, tugging at the edge of his mind, almost tempting him to drag Ravyn along.
But every instinct he had scread that it would be a disaster. Ravyn’s presence would only muddy the waters, throw everything into chaos, and ruin the fragile, delicate chance Voren had to confront Seraphine on his own terms, cleanly, without anyone complicating the stakes.
After all, it had been Ravyn who’d lit the fire under her, the reason her wrath had turned toward Ashkael Holdings in the first place, and Voren wasn’t about to let history repeat itself because of so misjudged loyalty.
With a deep, almost imperceptible exhale, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, the decision settling like stone in his gut, and caught up to Pete, who was already parked and waiting patiently in the restaurant’s lot.
The car glead under the late afternoon sun, a sleek black silhouette against the concrete, and Voren’s eyes flicked to it without hesitation.
"What’s the situation?" Voren asked, voice calm but taut, like a string stretched to its limit.
Pete’s response was asured, precise, almost unnervingly serene. "I saw them go in," he said, the words falling softly into the tense air between them.
Voren nodded once, almost imperceptibly, his mind already spinning ahead. "Okay. We’ll just act like we’re here to eat. I’ll handle the rest."
"Handle the rest?" Pete’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t trust Voren with Seraphine after he’d seen what happened last ti, witnessed the chaos firsthand, and this ti, he refused to let pride get in the way of sense.
"Sir... do you mind if I handle it? She might not want to see you," he ventured, voice low, careful, almost pleading.
Voren’s gaze snapped to him, dark and cold enough to make the hair on the back of Pete’s neck stand on end. "Do you think you know her better than I do?"
There was a weight in that question, an unspoken history, a depth Pete could never hope to understand without crossing a line that could reveal truths better left buried. Voren knew Pete ant well, that he was only trying to be careful, but the fire in his eyes left no room for negotiation.
Pete exhaled, frustration rolling off him in waves, heavy enough to make the car feel like it was closing in on them. "I’m sorry," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "but... can you at least try not to upset her?"
His eyes darted around the car park, desperate to make sure no one could see the tense, unsteady alliance playing out between him and his boss.
Voren, even in monts like these, commanded respect. Pete knew it, everyone knew it, but right now, that respect was a fragile thing, hanging by a thread, dependent on Voren not letting his ego ruin everything.
Voren let out a low, deliberate sigh, like a storm contained behind his ribs. "Don’t worry. I want the server restored just as much as you do. I’ll... try to be polite." There was a hardness to that word, polite, that made Pete swallow and hope it was enough.
As they pushed open the restaurant doors, the warm, scented air of expensive wood, simring sauces, and faint perfu wrapped around them, Voren’s eyes imdiately found their targets.
Three people sat around a square table, the picture of composure and guarded attention, but Voren made a point of pretending not to notice them.
He walked past, deliberate, calculated, and chose the table directly opposite Seraphine, seating himself in a position that allowed him to study her every movent, every flicker of expression.
They were face to face now, the invisible tension between them as thick as the heavy, polished oak table separating them.
Seraphine’s gaze flicked suspiciously toward Nicole, tight and sharp, her instincts still razor-sharp despite being outside the protective walls of her pack.
Nicole tried, subtly, to hide what she felt, but Seraphine could sll the lie clinging to her, like a faint perfu that didn’t belong there.
Even with Pete sitting directly in front of Voren, acting as an almost literal shield, Voren’s cold, unwavering stare pinned Seraphine in place, making her skin crawl in ways she refused to acknowledge out loud.
"Sera... please forgive ," Nicole said quickly, her voice edged with nerves. "Pete helped before, so I couldn’t refuse... besides, I had no idea he was coming with Mr. Ashkael."
Corvine’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table, knuckles white, tension radiating off him in waves that even Seraphine couldn’t ignore. None of them wanted to make things easy for Voren, and now, the challenge was palpable.
Seraphine’s voice cut through the air, calm but icy, carefully asured. "I’ll let this slide," she said, after a brief pause where her eyes assessed Nicole, her judgnt clear in the tilt of her head.
She could have done the sa if she were in Nicole’s place. "But..." The word dropped like a blade, sharp and direct. "This should be the last ti you try sothing like this."
The appetite and excitent that had drawn her in when she first arrived evaporated instantly, replaced by a cool, uncomfortable composure.
Rising from her chair, she moved toward the door, Corvine following closely, a silent shadow of her authority.
Voren’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stood without a word and closed the distance, catching her by the arm before she could slip away.
"Oh, running off now?" His tone was low, dangerous, teasing, but there was a taut thread of seriousness woven through it. "I thought you had the guts when you ca after ."
Seraphine yanked her arm back, her eyes sharp, the cold edge of fury slicing through her composure. "Mr. Ashkael, behave yourself, or I might report you to the police for sexual harassnt," she said, voice flat but deadly in its precision.
Voren’s jaw clenched, a faint shadow of a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. "You’ve got so nerves, don’t you?" he said, almost admiringly, though his eyes didn’t soften.
Before she could respond, Pete reached them, moving fast, but Corvine’s steady, growing confidence in Seraphine pulled him aside, shielding her from any further escalation.
At the sa mont, the entrance swung open with a faint jingle of tal and glass, and Ravyn stepped inside, his eyes burning with a mix of shock, anger, and sothing deeper, a storm of emotion that threatened to unravel the fragile tension in the room entirely.
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