LUCIAN’S POV
The following morning, I was back at OTS before the sun had fully crested the horizon.
The compound still hummed from last night’s spectacle—echoes of voices, whispered disbelief over the Moon Dew Nectar, air charged with a promise too big to ignore.
Even in its quiet hours, the place felt alive, pulsing like a heart that beat in rhythm with my own ambition.
I didn’t allow myself too much time to bask in it. There was a lot to do.
With the preliminary rounds looming closer, my desk was littered with reports, schedules, and last-minute revisions.
I moved through them with brisk precision, my pen slashing signatures across pages, my voice sharp and commanding as I dictated responses to my staff.
Every detail mattered. Every piece had to fall perfectly into place.
But even as I leaned over the glowing monitors, watching the Arena, my focus slipped. The rigid control over my thoughts loosened in that brief reprieve.
And then she was all I could see.
Zara.
