Seraphina’s pov
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, spilling me into the quiet, dimly lit corridor of Bishop’s private floor. Everything here felt expensive, deliberate—the faint scent of leather and cedarwood lingering in the air, the muted gold lights casting long shadows on the black marble walls.
My heels clicked sharply against the floor as I approached his office. I hated that I’d come here, but I needed answers… and maybe, if I was honest, an outlet for the storm Cassian had stirred in me.
Bishop was already standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows when I stepped inside. The city stretched out behind him, glimmering like a thousand watchful eyes. He turned slowly, his smile curling with dangerous amusement.
He stood at six feet. Hair neatly combed. The white T shirt e
