Chapter Three
The promotion was announced at exactly noon.
No fanfare.
No meeting.
No congratulatory speech from HR.
Just an email.
Aria stared at her screen long after the notification sound faded.
Executive Operations Liaison. Direct Reporting to CEO. Effective immediately.
She read it twice.
Then a third time.
Her name sat at the top of the message like it belonged there.
It didn't feel real.
Around her, the office shifted subtly.
Whispers.
Side glances.
Smiles that didn't quite reach eyes.
"Wow, Aria, that's huge."
"You must have impressed him."
"That was fast…"
Fast.
Yes.
That was one word for it.
Her gaze lifted slowly.
Across the floor, several board members who rarely stepped outside executive territory stood near the glass conference room.
They were not smiling.
They were watching her.
Not with admiration.
Not with curiosity.
With calculation.
As if something had moved on a chessboard.
And they were unsure what it meant.
Her phone buzzed softly.
A single message.
CEO's Office. Now.
No signature.
No pleasantries.
Of course.
She rose, smoothing her blouse unconsciously.
The mark beneath her collarbone pulsed once.
Warm.
Aware.
"Congratulations," one coworker said carefully.
Aria offered a polite smile.
"Thank you."
But her pulse was not celebratory.
It was anticipatory.
The elevator ride to the executive floor felt longer than usual.
The mirrored walls reflected her pale expression back at her.
Her reflection didn't look like someone who had just been promoted.
It looked like someone stepping toward something irreversible.
The doors opened.
The executive wing was quieter than ever.
Carpeted silence.
Controlled lighting.
Air that felt filtered and deliberate.
Lucien's office doors were already open.
He stood near his desk, jacket removed, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
Controlled.
Immaculate.
Power wrapped in calm.
"Close the door, Aria."
Not Miss Morgan.
Aria.
The sound of her name in his voice did something subtle to her heartbeat.
She obeyed.
The door shut with a muted click.
The outside world disappeared.
On his desk lay a single document.
Heavy paper.
Cream-colored.
Not standard corporate print stock.
"This position," Lucien began smoothly, "will place you at my side in all executive matters. You will attend private meetings. Travel internationally. Gain access to restricted floors."
Restricted floors.
Her eyes flickered to his.
"The building only has sixty floors," she said carefully.
His gaze did not shift.
"Publicly."
Silence settled between them.
The mark warmed faintly.
She stepped closer to the desk.
The document was longer than she expected.
Several pages.
The language—
She frowned slightly.
"This isn't standard legal phrasing."
"No," he agreed calmly.
"It is older."
Older.
The air seemed to thin.
She ran her fingers lightly across the paper.
Heat brushed her skin.
Faint.
But present.
And beneath the clean scent of expensive office air—
Smoke.
Her throat tightened.
"You're not subtle," she murmured.
A faint curve touched his mouth.
"I have never claimed to be."
She began reading.
Confidentiality clauses.
Non-disclosure agreements.
Clauses regarding "operational anomalies."
Protection directives.
Unusual phrasing like:
Recognition of Authority Beyond Conventional Governance.
Consent to Witness Classified Phenomena.
Her pulse slowed.
Not from calm.
From focus.
"This is more than corporate confidentiality," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"What happens if I refuse?"
The question lingered in the air.
Lucien moved around the desk slowly.
Not predatory.
Not forceful.
But deliberate.
He stopped in front of her.
Close enough that she felt the subtle warmth radiating from him.
"You will remain safe," he said evenly.
Safe.
The word felt layered.
"And if I accept?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"You will stand beside me."
Not behind.
Not beneath.
Beside.
The weight of that settled deep.
Her pulse quickened.
The mark responded with a slow, rhythmic heat.
She picked up the pen resting atop the final page.
It was heavier than it should have been.
Metal.
Dark.
Cold.
"This doesn't bind my soul, does it?" she asked lightly.
She meant it as a joke.
Lucien did not smile.
"No."
The answer came too smoothly.
She searched his face.
There was no visible deception.
That unsettled her more than if she had found it.
"You're enjoying this," she accused softly.
His gaze sharpened.
"I am preparing you."
"For what?"
"For reality."
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Irreversible.
Her thumb brushed the mark unconsciously.
It pulsed once.
As if waiting.
She lowered the pen to the paper.
Hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then signed her name.
The moment the ink completed the final stroke—
It glowed.
A faint crimson shimmer tracing her signature.
Her breath caught.
The glow sank into the page.
Vanished.
The mark at her collarbone flared sharply.
Then steadied.
Lucien watched the paper with unreadable intensity.
"It is done," he said quietly.
"What exactly did I just agree to?"
He reached forward.
Not touching her.
But close.
"To see the truth."
The air shifted.
Subtly.
Like something unseen had acknowledged the contract.
The lights flickered once.
Just once.
Then steadied.
Aria swallowed.
"Show me."
Lucien studied her.
Measuring.
Weighing.
"You are certain?"
"No," she admitted.
His expression softened—barely.
"Good."
Before she could respond, the temperature in the room dropped.
Not dramatically.
But noticeably.
The shadows along the walls deepened.
Not darker.
Deeper.
Lucien stepped back.
His composure remained intact.
But something beneath it stirred.
"You must understand something before we proceed," he said quietly.
"You were not chosen randomly."
Her breath slowed.
"Then why me?"
His gaze moved to her collarbone.
"The seal weakened."
"And that's my fault?"
"No."
His eyes returned to hers.
"It is your nature."
The mark flared again.
Less pain.
More resonance.
"What am I?" she asked.
Not joking.
Not deflecting.
Asking.
Lucien moved toward the far wall of his office.
The glass overlooking the city.
He placed his hand against it.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then the skyline shimmered.
Just slightly.
Like heat distortion.
Her heart began to pound.
The glass darkened.
The city beyond it shifted.
Buildings stretched taller.
Older.
Spired.
The sky deepened into twilight.
Not modern.
Not familiar.
The city she knew was gone.
In its place stood something ancient.
Magnificent.
Terrifying.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Removing the veil."
Her breath shortened.
"This is illusion."
"No," he said quietly.
"This is proximity."
The office no longer felt like an office.
The air was heavier.
Charged.
The mark at her collarbone burned steadily now.
Not painful.
Awakening.
"Why can I see this?" she asked.
"Because you signed."
Her gaze snapped to him.
"That's not an NDA."
"It is a contract of acknowledgment."
"Of what?"
His voice lowered.
"Of what you are."
The skyline beyond the glass flickered again.
For a split second—
She saw figures moving across rooftops.
Not human.
Too fluid.
Too precise.
Then they vanished.
Her pulse thundered.
"This world exists alongside yours," Lucien said calmly. "Most humans never perceive it."
"And I'm not most humans."
"No."
He approached her slowly.
The atmosphere bent subtly around him.
"You were sealed," he continued.
"By who?"
"By those who feared what your lineage represents."
Her breath faltered.
"Lineage."
The word echoed strangely inside her.
"Kael," she whispered.
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"Yes."
"So he wasn't lying."
"He rarely lies."
That was not comforting.
The glass returned to normal suddenly.
The modern skyline snapped back into place.
Traffic.
Concrete.
Reality.
But her pulse knew better.
"You could always see it," she said.
"Yes."
"And you just let me walk around blind?"
His gaze softened slightly.
"You were safer blind."
Anger flickered through her.
"You don't get to decide that."
"No," he agreed quietly.
"But I do decide how long you survive."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
The mark pulsed again.
Her breathing steadied slowly.
"Why protect me?" she asked.
This time, the question was not confrontational.
It was vulnerable.
Lucien stopped inches from her.
Close.
Not touching.
"You were not meant to kneel," he said quietly.
Something ancient stirred inside her chest at those words.
"You speak like you know me."
"I do."
Her pulse stumbled.
"From where?"
His eyes darkened.
"From before."
The room went still.
Before what?
Before her birth?
Before her life?
Before—
A knock sounded suddenly at the door.
Sharp.
Interrupting.
Lucien stepped back instantly.
The temperature normalized.
The air lightened.
His composure returned seamlessly.
"Enter."
A senior board member stepped inside.
Older.
Polished.
But pale.
His gaze flicked to Aria briefly.
Then to Lucien.
"There are concerns," the man said carefully.
"About?"
"Her."
Silence.
Lucien's voice was smooth.
"She is under my authority."
The board member swallowed.
"That is precisely the concern."
Aria's pulse spiked.
Concern.
Not jealousy.
Not politics.
Fear.
Lucien's eyes cooled.
"Is the board questioning my judgment?"
"No," the man said quickly.
"Then this conversation is concluded."
The board member hesitated.
Then nodded stiffly and exited.
The door shut.
Aria turned to Lucien slowly.
"They know."
"Yes."
"Know what?"
"That the seal is weakening."
Her hand rose instinctively to her collarbone.
The mark burned brighter now.
Not faint.
Visible.
Glowing through fabric.
Lucien noticed.
His expression shifted.
Not fear.
Not control.
Something far more dangerous.
Reverence.
"It has begun," he murmured.
The air thickened.
The shadows in the corners of the office stretched subtly toward her.
Not threatening.
Acknowledging.
"What has begun?" she demanded.
His gaze locked onto hers.
"Your return."
The word sent a tremor through her bones.
"I don't remember anything."
"You will."
"And if I don't want to?"
His voice softened.
"You will not have that luxury."
Silence engulfed the room again.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
"You said I would stand beside you," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Not beneath."
"Never."
The certainty in his voice struck something deep.
The mark flared once more.
This time—
The fracture widened.
A thin line of light split through the symbol.
Lucien inhaled sharply.
The control he wore like armor cracked for a fraction of a second.
"You are accelerating," he said quietly.
"I don't know how to stop it."
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His hand lifted again.
Paused near her collarbone.
"May I?"
She nodded.
His fingers brushed the mark.
Instantly—
The burning steadied.
Not extinguished.
Balanced.
Their eyes locked.
The air between them tightened.
Not violent.
Intimate.
Power coiling around power.
"You are not human," he said softly.
The words should have terrified her.
Instead—
They felt familiar.
"And you?" she asked.
A faint shadow crossed his expression.
"I am bound."
"To me?"
His gaze did not waver.
"Yes."
Her breath hitched.
The contract lay on the desk behind them.
Signed.
Sealed.
Activated.
"You didn't bind my soul," she whispered.
"No."
He leaned slightly closer.
"But you stepped willingly into my world."
Her pulse raced.
"And if I step out?"
His voice dropped.
"You will find it no longer exists without you."
The mark pulsed.
Alive.
Awake.
Somewhere deep inside her—
Something ancient stretched.
And opened its eyes.