The box was colder than the room.
That was the first thing Trisha noticed.
Not the guards.
Not the silence.
Not even Rowan standing beside her like a wall carved from control and quiet fury.
The box.
It sat at the center of the long marble table, its black polished surface reflecting the dim golden lights above like still water.
Unmoving.
Uninviting.
Wrong.
The guards who had brought it in now stood at a distance, heads lowered—not in respect.
In caution.
Trisha's gaze didn't leave it.
"Is that it?" she asked quietly.
No one answered immediately.
Because everyone already knew.
Yes.
That was it.
Seraphina stepped forward first.
Not too close.
Never careless.
Her sharp eyes scanned every inch of the box—the edges, the seal, the faint carving etched into the surface.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"He's announcing himself," she said.
Her voice was calm.
But not relaxed.
Rowan's jaw tightened slightly.
Trisha noticed.
"You're all acting like it's going to explode," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"It might," Seraphina replied without looking at her.
That didn't help.
Trisha folded her arms instinctively, her gaze still fixed on the box.
It wasn't large.
Not dramatic.
Just—
deliberate.
Like it knew exactly what it was doing just by existing.
"It's addressed to me," she said.
Rowan didn't respond.
But something in the air shifted.
Subtle.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Trisha took a step forward.
Immediately—
Rowan moved.
One step.
And suddenly he was between her and the table.
Blocking her without even trying.
"You're not touching anything he sends."
The words were calm.
Final.
Her irritation flared instantly.
"You don't get to decide that."
His eyes dropped to hers.
Cold.
Focused.
"I do."
The authority in his voice wrapped around her like a command.
It should have made her step back.
It didn't.
"It has my name on it," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "Not yours."
"That's exactly why you're not touching it."
Their gazes locked.
Tension snapped tight between them.
For a second—
neither moved.
Then—
Seraphina exhaled sharply.
"Oh, this is getting exhausting already."
Both of them ignored her.
Of course they did.
"Rowan," Trisha said, quieter now but no less firm, "if this is about me, I'm not going to stand here like I'm not involved."
His expression didn't soften.
Didn't change.
But something flickered.
Brief.
Unavoidable.
"I'll open it," he said.
Not a compromise.
A decision.
Trisha didn't argue.
But she didn't step back either.
She stayed right where she was.
Close enough to see.
To feel.
To know.
*****
The seal broke with a soft, deliberate sound.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
The kind of sound that made the room feel even more silent afterward.
Rowan didn't rush.
Of course he didn't.
Every movement was measured.
Intentional.
His fingers brushed over the edge of the lid before lifting it slowly.
The hinges didn't creak.
Didn't resist.
The box opened like it had been waiting.
Inside—
dark velvet.
And resting on it—
a ring.
Trisha's breath caught.
She didn't mean for it to.
Didn't even realize it had until the sound filled the silence.
The ring was simple.
Not overly ornate.
A thin band of dark metal, almost black, with a faint, intricate design etched along its surface.
Ancient.
Elegant.
Wrong.
And yet—
her chest tightened.
Because something about it felt…
familiar.
Too familiar.
Her fingers twitched slightly at her side.
Don't.
Don't react.
Don't say anything.
Rowan's gaze flicked toward her.
Sharp.
Observant.
He noticed everything.
She forced her expression to remain neutral.
Unimpressed.
Unaffected.
Even as something deep inside her stirred.
Seraphina leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing.
"That's not just a ring," she murmured.
"No," Rowan said quietly.
"It's not."
Beneath it—
a folded letter.
Sealed.
Trisha swallowed.
The air felt heavier now.
Thicker.
Like it was pressing down on her.
Rowan picked up the letter.
The paper looked old.
Not worn.
But not new.
Like it didn't belong to this time.
He broke the seal.
Unfolded it.
Read.
His expression didn't change.
That was the problem.
"What does it say?" Trisha asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Which meant—
it mattered.
Seraphina's voice cut through the silence.
"Read it."
Rowan's eyes lifted slowly.
Meeting Trisha's.
Then—
he spoke.
"'Rowan,'"
His voice was calm.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
"'Let's not pretend we're strangers.'"
A pause.
The words settled.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
"'You always preferred control over chaos.'"
Trisha felt her stomach tighten.
He wasn't just sending a message.
He was… speaking to him.
Personally.
Rowan continued.
"'So let's act like civilized beings.'"
Seraphina let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"Civilized," she repeated. "That's rich."
Rowan ignored her.
"'I propose a meeting.'"
Trisha's pulse quickened.
"'Tomorrow.'"
Another pause.
"'2 a.m.'"
Her breath slowed.
"'You choose the location.'"
Rowan's jaw tightened slightly.
"'Bring her.'"
Trisha stilled.
"'And Seraphina.'"
Silence.
Complete.
Unavoidable.
The air shifted again.
Colder now.
Sharper.
Rowan's voice dropped slightly as he read the last line.
"'I look forward to seeing all three of you.'"
A beat.
Then—
he folded the letter slowly.
Carefully.
Like the paper itself might matter.
Trisha's mind raced.
All three.
Not just her.
Not just Rowan.
Seraphina too.
"This isn't random," she said quietly.
"No," Seraphina replied.
"It's not."
Trisha's gaze dropped back to the ring.
It gleamed faintly under the light.
Still.
Waiting.
"For me," she said.
No one denied it.
"Why?" she asked.
This time—
Rowan didn't answer.
And that scared her more than anything else.
****
She didn't realize she had stepped closer.
Didn't realize how close she was until her hand hovered just inches above the ring.
Rowan noticed instantly.
"Don't."
The word came low.
Sharp.
But—
too late.
Her fingers brushed the metal.
And everything—
shifted.
A flicker.
A flash.
Not a full memory.
Not even a clear image.
Just—
feeling.
Warmth.
Music.
A distant echo of laughter.
A hand reaching for hers—
Her breath caught.
Her fingers tightened instinctively around the ring before she could stop herself.
The sensation vanished just as quickly.
Leaving behind—
nothing.
And everything.
"Trisha."
Rowan's voice was closer now.
Too close.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Forcing her expression back into place.
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
Too quickly.
He didn't believe her.
Of course he didn't.
But she didn't give him time to question it.
She placed the ring back down.
Carefully.
Like it hadn't just—
done something.
"I just—"
She shook her head slightly.
"It's nothing."
A lie.
A clean one.
Seraphina was watching her now.
Not casually.
Not idly.
But she didn't say anything.
Not yet.
*****
"So," Trisha said, forcing her voice steady, "he wants a meeting."
"Yes," Rowan said.
"And you're going?"
His eyes met hers again.
Dark.
Unreadable.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
Of course not.
"Tomorrow?" she asked.
"2 a.m."
"At your hotel?"
"That's what he asked."
"And you're just going to agree?"
Rowan stepped closer.
Not threatening.
But not soft either.
"I don't avoid confrontation."
"I noticed."
Seraphina crossed her arms.
"He's not asking," she said.
"He's setting the stage."
Trisha looked between them.
"So what? We go there, sit down, and have a nice little conversation?"
Seraphina's lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something sharper.
"You're optimistic."
"I'm realistic," Trisha shot back. "If he wanted to attack, he would've already done it."
"No," Rowan said quietly.
"He wouldn't."
She frowned.
"Why?"
"Because this," Seraphina gestured toward the box, the ring, the letter, "is more interesting to him."
Trisha's stomach tightened.
"Great," she muttered. "So I'm entertainment now."
"No," Rowan said.
His voice softer now.
But no less intense.
"You're the center of it."
That didn't help.
At all.
*****
Silence settled again.
But it wasn't empty.
It was building.
Something unspoken.
Something approaching.
Seraphina pushed herself off the table slowly.
Her expression had shifted.
Less amused now.
More… focused.
Dangerously so.
She looked at Rowan.
Then at Trisha.
Then back at the ring.
"This isn't just a meeting," she said.
No one interrupted her.
Because they already knew.
But they needed to hear it anyway.
She took a step forward.
Her voice calm.
Precise.
Sharp as a blade.
"This is a war zone."
The words settled into the room like something alive.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"We go unprepared," she continued, her gaze locking onto Rowan's, "we don't walk out."
Trisha's breath slowed.
Her pulse steadying—not from calm.
But from clarity.
This wasn't just about curiosity anymore.
Or confusion.
Or even fear.
This was something bigger.
Something dangerous.
Something that had already begun—
long before she ever stepped into this world.
Her gaze drifted once more to the ring.
Still resting on the velvet.
Still silent.
Still waiting.
And deep down—
where no one else could see—
something inside her whispered:
You've seen this before.
Her fingers curled slowly at her side.
But this time—
she didn't reach for it.
****
Because tomorrow—
she would have to face the man who sent it.
And somehow—
that felt far more dangerous than the ring ever could be.