The door to Empress's apartment opens. Standing in the hallway is a figure that shouldn't exist — nearly two meters of coiled muscle and shadow, blocking out the light behind him. The scent hits first: pine forests and something sharper, metallic, ancient. His green eyes find her immediately, pinning her in place like prey caught in a predator's gaze.
He doesn't wait for an invitation. One step forward forces her to retreat, and he fills the doorway of her small apartment, his presence suffocating and absolute. His jaw is set, his expression carved from stone.
"You're Empress," he states. Not a question. His voice is low, a rumble that seems to vibrate through the floor beneath her feet. "The clinic made a mistake. You are carrying my heir."
His gaze drops to her stomach, and something flickers in those cold green depths — possessiveness, raw and dangerous.
"Pack your things. You're leaving with me. Now."
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