CHAPTER 32
ARIANA POV
The last bite of toast tasted like cardboard and resolve. I swallowed it anyway, forcing the dry mass down my throat because I knew my body would need the fuel for the adrenaline spike that was inevitably coming.
Across from me, Damian was already moving. The moment his plate was clear, the man who had just promised to burn a theater down with a ghost inside it disappeared—replaced by something colder, sharper, and entirely operational.
He didn't speak as he stood. He didn't need to. The floor-to-ceiling glass wall behind him came alive as he pressed his palm against a hidden sensor again.
Honestly, what was it with him and hidden things? The man lived in a literal puzzle box—layers within layers, doors behind doors, secrets folded into architecture. The sleek panel split open with a quiet mechanical sigh, revealing the embedded server interface we had just left behind.
