Vivienne was waiting at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, gaze calm and assessing as always. The polished hallway lights framed her like a portrait—elegance honed to precision.
As Damien approached, she didn't move. Didn't speak.
Not until he was within arm's reach.
"How did it go?" she asked, voice clipped but not cold. Measured.
Damien loosened his tie slightly, more for effect than comfort, and exhaled through his nose with a faint, satisfied hum.
"Better than I expected."
Her eyebrow arched faintly. "And what exactly did you expect?"
He glanced at her sidelong, that same dry smirk touching the edge of his lips.
"A wild wolf," he said.
Vivienne gave a slight tilt of the head, interest piqued. "And what did you find instead?"
Damien stopped just short of the elevator, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.
"I found a hunting dog," he said. "Lean. Ragged. Pissed off. And with its path taken from it."
A beat.
