ZAYNE’s POV

They say a son owes his father loyalty but loyalty to Charles Black has always felt like a chain and tonight, those chains were choking me.

I pushed through the office doors harder than I meant to, the slam echoing against the marble walls.

My father barely flinched. He was behind his desk, papers spread across it like war trophies. Calm, Composed and Smug.

“Zayne,” he said, as if I was just another meeting on his calendar. “I wondered when you’d come.”

“You filed for ...