Ethan's POV
We'd barely stepped into the hall when Soraya's gaze snapped toward us.
She was in the middle of her session, movements calm and deliberate, her breathing steady as she focused. The moment she saw us—me—her expression tightened.
For a split second, I saw it—the flicker of surprise before it hardened into irritation.
A faint sigh escaped her, sharp and impatient, before she muttered something under her breath and shook her head.
I stayed where I was, at the far end of the room, arms crossed, watching her.
I nearly smiled. Almost.
A moment later, a man walked out from the adjoining chamber—a tall figure with brown hair streaked with silver at the temples. His eyes were amber, sharp, and his movements carried a sort of easy confidence that instantly rubbed me the wrong way. He looked like the kind of man who knew exactly how he appeared—strong, calm, and far too composed for my liking.
"Let's continue, Soraya," he said, voice calm and low.
