I didn't close my eyes. I couldn't. I just stayed exactly as I was, staring at the dark wood of the door while the minutes stretched out thin and cold. Zane didn't move either, his massive frame completely still against the backrest of the chair, his eyes fixed on the hallway entrance with a quiet, lethal patience.
Then, the heavy brass handle clicked.
I was on my feet before the door even swung fully open, standing upright so fast my head spun for a fraction of a second. My hand instinctively dropped to my stomach, my fingers digging lightly into the fabric as the door pushed inward.
Darius walked in.
He didn't look at Zane. He didn't look at the desk. His dark eyes locked directly onto mine the moment he crossed the threshold. His expression was entirely blank—that smooth, impenetrable stone mask that meant he had completely locked down whatever was happening inside his head.
But then I saw his hand.
