The conference room on the thirty-second floor was made of glass and quiet intimidation.
Eliana sat three seats from the end of the polished black table, spine straight, expression composed, fingers laced neatly over a legal pad she didn't need. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city below—steel, neon, rain-slicked streets that pulsed like veins. It was a view meant to inspire power in the legal world.
Instead, it reminded her of how small she was allowed to be.
"Let's begin," Managing Partner Caldwell said, adjusting his cufflinks as he makes his way to his seat. "As you're all aware, the Ravenport Criminal Case has drawn… unusual attention."
Eliana's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Unusual was one word for it.
The defendant, Marcus Raventport, had no criminal history, no paper trail, and no witnesses—yet four people were dead, and the evidence refused to behave normally. Statements contradicted physics. Surveillance footage glitched. Autopsy reports made seasoned coroners go pale.
Eliana had spent weeks analyzing it.
Unofficially.
"This is a high-risk, high-visibility case," Caldwell continued. "Which is why we need someone experienced, decisive, and capable of handling pressure."
Eliana lifted her eyes.
And then she knew.
Will this be her moment?
"Daniel Mercer will be leading the defense."
Damn spoke too soon
Daniel, seated directly across from her, smiled.
Not a pleased smile.
A victorious one.
Eliana felt heat flare low in her chest—sharp, sudden, dangerous. She inhaled slowly, forcing it down. The room stayed intact. The lights didn't flicker. Good.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head like he'd already won the trial. "I'm honored sir," he said smoothly. "I've already reviewed the preliminary files."
Files I compiled you bastard, Eliana thought.
Caldwell nodded approvingly. "Excellent. You'll be working closely with—"
"With respect," Eliana interrupted.
Every head turned.
Daniel's smile thinned.
Caldwell raised a brow. "Yes, Ms. Vale?"
Her pulse was steady. Her voice was calm. She had learned long ago that emotion was a luxury people like her couldn't afford.
"I submitted a full strategic analysis on the Raventport case three weeks ago. Including inconsistencies in the forensic timeline and a possible constitutional violation regarding evidence collection."
Silence followed.
Daniel's eyes flicked to Caldwell. "I wasn't aware—"
"Because you didn't look," Eliana said, still composed. "The case aligns directly with my background in criminal defense and forensic law. I'm requesting clarification on why I wasn't considered."
The room shifted. Lawyers exchanged glances. Someone coughed.
Caldwell sighed. "Eliana, this isn't personal."
It never was.
And it always was.
"This case requires… discretion," he said carefully. "Daniel has seniority."
Daniel leaned forward now, elbows on the table. "Look, Eliana," he said, voice dripping with false civility. "You're talented. Everyone knows that. But talent doesn't equal trust."
Her gaze locked on his. "What exactly does that mean?"
He shrugged. "You ask too many questions."
Something old and furious stirred beneath her skin.
Caldwell cleared his throat. "That will be all. Daniel, we'll meet after lunch. Everyone else—back to work."
Chairs scraped. Papers gathered. The meeting dissolved.
Eliana didn't move right away.
Daniel stood, straightened his jacket, and paused beside her chair. "Don't take it personally," he murmured. "Some doors just aren't meant for you."
She looked up at him slowly.
"Funny," she said. "That's exactly what people say right before those doors burn down."
His smile vanished.
⸻
The hallway outside the conference room smelled like expensive cologne and dangerous ambition.
Eliana was halfway to her office when Daniel caught up to her.
"Hey," he said. "Wait."
She didn't slow.
"Did you really think you were going to get that case?" he continued, amusement lacing his voice. "Be honest."
She stopped.
Turned.
"I know I should've gotten it," she said. "I did the work. I saw patterns you missed."
Daniel laughed softly. "You mean the supernatural nonsense?"
Her eyes sharpened. "I mean the facts."
"You're obsessed," he snapped, the mask slipping. "You see conspiracies everywhere. Maybe that's why no one fully trusts you."
Eliana stepped closer. "You hate me because I don't pretend this city is normal."
His expression darkened. "Careful."
"Or what?" she asked quietly. "You'll tell them I'm difficult? Emotional? Too intense?"
Daniel leaned in. "People like you should be grateful just to be here."
For a moment—just one—the lights above them flickered.
Daniel frowned. "Did you see that?"
Eliana smiled thinly. "Must be the building."
She turned and walked away before the heat inside her could answer his fear.
Back in her office, she closed the door and pressed her palm against the glass.
The case wasn't just important.
It was wrong.
And somehow, deep in her bones, she knew—
Being kept away from it wasn't a coincidence
———
The Raventport case, Daniel's smug victory, the suffocating weight of being ignored despite her work—it all pressed against her chest.
She needed air, distance, escape.
The bar was tucked between a row of shuttered shops on a side street. Its sign flickered faintly, like it wasn't sure it wanted to exist. Inside, it smelled of smoke, aged wood, and faint citrus—a strangely comforting combination. A jazz bassline thrummed under low chatter, carrying a rhythm that slowed her pulse.
She slid onto a high stool near the bar and ordered a whiskey. Neat. Strong. Honest.
The first sip burned and cooled at the same time, like liquid clarity. She closed her eyes and let the warmth reach the corners of her mind where tension had been nesting.
And then she felt it.
The gaze.
Her eyes opened, scanning the room.
Across the dimly lit space, leaning casually against the far side of the bar, was him.
Dark hair, sharp angles, a smile that was carefully restrained but hinted secrets. His presence was… impossible. He didn't seem like he belonged in the ordinary. Yet here he was. Watching her.
Their eyes met.
And in that instant, something primordial stirred within Eliana.
It wasn't fear. Not entirely. It was a pull—powerful, magnetic, alive. Her chest tightened. Her heartbeat faltered. She couldn't look away, and she didn't want to. Something inside her recognized him. Something dangerous and thrilling.
Asher's gaze held hers with the same intensity. It wasn't casual. It wasn't flirtation. It was recognition, an unspoken understanding.
Eliana felt it in her veins—an echo of fire. Her skin prickled. Her senses sharpened. The air around him seemed to bend, quiet, as if the room itself had taken notice.
She leaned back slightly, trying to convince herself it was imagination. It couldn't be real.
But it was.
The moment stretched, taut as a wire. Then, as if the universe itself had decided to interrupt, her phone rang, shrill and urgent.
The sound shattered the spell. Her heart raced for an entirely different reason now—embarrassment, shock, confusion.
She looked down at the screen, frowning at the name flashing in stark white letters.
And when she looked back up…
He was gone.
Not just out of sight. Not behind a column. Gone.
The bar was the same as before: dim, smoky, neon humming over the walls. Patrons sipped, laughed, argued quietly. But the pull she had felt—the heat, the fire, the recognition—was still there. Lingering. Alive.
Her fingers tightened around her glass.
Someone—something—had entered her life tonight.
And she didn't know if it was salvation… or danger.