i want to talk to my son

I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into my half-empty cup of tea, when the door swung open with an air of entitlement that could only belong to him.

"Zina."

I looked up, irritation crawling up my spine. There he was, standing in the doorway like he still had some kind of claim over me. The same arrogant expression, the same cocky attitude that had once made me fall for him. But now? It was a mask, a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice clipped.

Xaden's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening with the same pride that had always made him so infuriating. He wasn't here to apologize, I knew that much. His eyes flickered past me, toward the stairs, toward the one person he thought he could still control.

"I'm here to see Asher."