Epilogue
Not empty—never empty, not with Obsidian Aegis operatives positioned discreetly throughout the building—but quiet in that specific way that means I'm the last one here.
I love this part of the day.
The part where I lock up my own business, count my own till, and don't have to think about eviction notices or past-due medical bills or whether I can afford premium orange juice.
I can afford premium orange juice now.
I buy it specifically because I can.
It's petty.
It's also deeply satisfying.
I'm wiping down the main reception desk when the door chimes.
After-hours.
Which means either Cyprian is early picking me up, or someone has a genuine emergency.
I glance up.
It's Audrey Vance.
And she looks like she's been through a war.
Her usually immaculate dark hair is half-fallen out of its bun. Her designer blazer is wrinkled. There's a coffee stain on her white blouse that looks like it's been there since approximately 2 PM. And her shoulders are so tense they're practically touching her ears.
"Oh honey," I say.
"No."
"I didn't even—"
"Whatever you're about to say, the answer is no," Audrey says, but she's already moving toward the private massage suite. "I'm not here. This isn't happening. I'm hallucinating from stress and caffeine deprivation."
I follow her, already mentally shifting into therapist mode.
"How much coffee have you had today?"
"I don't know. Seven? Eight? I stopped counting after the fourth espresso."
"Jesus."
"I know."
She collapses onto the massage table like her strings have been cut, face-down, still wearing her blazer.
I grab a heated blanket and drape it over her, then start working my fingers into the base of her skull.
She groans.
It's a sound of pure suffering.
"Okay," I say. "Talk to me. What happened?"
"I landed a contract," she says into the table. "A big one. Forensic audit for a cryptocurrency holdings firm. Massive portfolio. Completely opaque financial structure. The kind of job that could make my entire career if I pull it off."
"That sounds amazing."
"It would be," Audrey says, "if my client wasn't a literal cryptid."
I pause.
My hands still against her shoulders.
"What?"
"Not literally," she amends quickly. "I mean, probably not literally.
But he acts like he's a cryptid. His name is Valerius.
He's some kind of reclusive billionaire who made his fortune in crypto and now apparently spends all his time hoarding his money like it's a physical treasure chest he needs to personally guard. "
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
"He's refusing to cooperate with standard audit protocols," Audrey continues, her voice getting more frantic.
"He won't provide access to his offshore accounts.
He won't return my emails. He had his security team physically escort me out of his office building yesterday.
And when I tried to reschedule, his assistant told me—and I quote—'Mr. Valerius does not appreciate being questioned about his financial holdings. '"
"Sounds like a charmer," I say dryly.
"He's a nightmare," Audrey groans. "Everyone at the firm warned me about him. They said he has a 'draconic temper.' That he's 'notoriously territorial.' That he treats his financial records like they're state secrets."
I work my thumbs into the knots along her spine.
She's carrying all her stress in her shoulders and neck—classic overachiever tension.
I know it well.
I used to carry it the same way.
"Audrey," I say quietly. "You're one of the best forensic auditors in the tri-state area. You've taken down three Fortune 500 CEOs and a hedge fund manager. You're smart. You're thorough. You're completely unfazed by powerful men who think they're above the law."
"But he's different," she says.
"How?"
"I don't know. There's something about him. Something that makes my brain go into fight-or-flight mode the moment he enters a room. Like he's not entirely human or something."
I smile against her shoulder blade.
Oh, Audrey.
If only you knew.
"Listen to me," I say, moving to her shoulders and really digging in. "I know a thing or two about stubborn, wealthy monsters. Trust me. You can handle him."
She lifts her head slightly.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I married one," I say simply.
Audrey goes completely still.
"You what?"
"Not married. Bonded. It's complicated. The point is, I spent the first three months of knowing Cyprian absolutely convinced he was going to either kill me or fire me or both. He was cold. He was possessive. He was terrifying."
"And now?"
"Now he's still cold and possessive and terrifying," I say.
"But he's also the best thing that ever happened to me.
And the thing I learned is that men like that—powerful men, territorial men, men who treat their empires like personal treasure—they respond to confidence.
They respond to someone who isn't intimidated by their money or their power or their reputation. "
I work my fingers deeper into her trapezius.
She sighs.
"So what you're saying is I should just... not be scared?"
"I'm saying you should be scared," I correct. "But don't let him see it. Walk into that office like you own it. Ask your questions. Demand your answers. Don't apologize for doing your job."
"What if he fires me?"
"Then you find a new client," I say. "But I have a feeling he won't. I have a feeling he's going to be absolutely fascinated by you."
Audrey is quiet for a long moment.
Then: "You're weirdly confident about this."
"I'm weirdly confident about a lot of things now," I say. "Six months ago, I was eating ramen and dodging collection calls. Now I own a multi-million-dollar wellness clinic and I'm married to a gargoyle. Confidence is kind of my thing these days."
She laughs.
It's shaky, but it's genuine.
I work on her shoulders for another twenty minutes, feeling the tension gradually release. By the time I'm done, she's breathing easier. Her color is better. She's not quite relaxed, but she's no longer vibrating with stress.
"Thank you," she says, sitting up slowly. "I needed that."
"You needed someone to tell you that you're going to be fine," I say. "So I'm telling you. You're going to walk into that office tomorrow, and you're going to absolutely destroy him with your competence and your refusal to back down. And he's going to—"
I stop myself.
Because I was about to say something that would require explaining the entire paranormal supernatural ecosystem, and Audrey doesn't need that kind of information right now.
"He's going to respect you," I finish instead. "That's all you need to know."
She nods, gathering her things.
"You're a good friend, Tamsin."
"I know," I say. "Now go home. Drink some water. Sleep for like twelve hours. And then go destroy that dragon—I mean, that guy. That guy."
She laughs again as she heads for the door.
And I watch her go, thinking about what she's about to walk into.
About Valerius and his territorial instincts and his obsession with his financial empire.
About the way powerful, ancient creatures respond to humans who aren't afraid of them.
She has absolutely no idea what she's about to walk into.
But honestly?
She's going to absolutely destroy him.
And he's going to love every second of it.
The door chimes again at 10:15 PM.
This time it's Cyprian.
He fills the doorway like he always does—seven feet of slate-gray skin and folded wings and absolute possessive certainty.
His amber veins glow soft gold in the low light.
"Your friend left," he says. It's not a question.
"She did. She's got a nightmare audit contract with some reclusive crypto-billionaire. She's stressed."
"The dragon," Cyprian says flatly.
I blink.
"You know about Valerius?"
"Kael monitors significant financial movements in the supernatural markets," he says. "Valerius has been acquiring assets at an accelerated rate. He is... territorial about his holdings."
"That's one way to put it," I say.
Cyprian moves closer, his sprawling, towering frame reaching out to cup my face with feather-light gentleness.
"The dragon will be thoroughly challenged," he says quietly. "Your friend is exactly the kind of human who will not tolerate his possessive nature."
"That's what I told her."
"You are wise."
"I'm experienced," I correct. "There's a difference."
He pulls me against his chest, his wings unfurling to wrap around me like a velvet cage.
"Come home," he says. "I have premium orange juice waiting."
I smile against his chest.
"Of course you do."
And as he carries me out into the night, I'm already thinking about Audrey walking into Valerius's office tomorrow.
About the moment he realizes she's not going to back down.
About the moment his ancient draconic instincts recognize something in her that he's been searching for across centuries.
She has no idea.
But she's about to find out exactly what it means to be wanted by a dragon.
And honestly?
I can't wait to hear how it goes.
THE END