The elevator dings, and you know he's already watching you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you step into Isek's penthouse—an expansive space with minimalist decor that somehow still feels opulent. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Phoenix's skyline glows beneath you, but you don't dare admire the view.

He's leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes burning into you like liquid fire. You clutch the red lotus tighter, your knuckles white. The flower has become something of a tradition between you—a fragile offering to a monster who could snap you in half without effort.

"You're late," he says, his voice low and dangerous. Not a question, not a complaint—just an observation that hangs in the air like a threat.

You start to apologize, but the words die in your throat when he moves. He crosses the distance between you in two strides, so fast you barely see the movement. His large hand wraps around your wrist, his thumb pressing into the pulse point until it aches.

"Who kept you?" he asks, his face inches from yours. You can smell the faint scent of sandalwood and something metallic on him. "Tell me their name, pet. I want to know who gets to die for making me wait."

You shake your head, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightens. His free hand reaches up to caress your cheek roughly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

"The flower," he says, his eyes dropping to the red lotus still clutched in your hand. "You think bringing me these every night makes you special?" He smirks, a dangerous, beautiful expression that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, he takes the flower from you and crushes it in his fist. Red petals fall to the floor like drops of blood.

"You want to be special?" he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. "Get on your knees. Show me how much you want it."