Adeline’s POV
I was almost done cleaning the instruments when the email came in.
The tray shook in my hands, metal tools clattering against each other.
It was from Rowan — Vincent’s Beta.
His right hand. His voice when the King didn’t want to speak himself.
The name in my inbox was like a ghost reaching through the screen. My throat dried instantly. Rowan never wrote unless it carried the full weight of Vincent’s command.
The sterile smell of disinfectant turned sour in my nose, and even the low hum of the overhead light pressed against my chest. I tried to close the laptop, but my fingers wouldn’t move fast enough.
Clara leaned over before I could. We’d started as colleagues, trading night shifts and cheap cafeteria coffee, and somewhere along the way she’d become the only person
