ed teeth with sharp edges. The scent of rust, mould, and missed possibilities filled the air, yet he saw something else. A start. He bent down and smoothed down a piece of paper he had fo

lence hurt him more than any insult could. He remarked, "You're quiet." Finally, Fatima looked up. I'm trying to figure out if you're inspired or just careless. He raised an eyebrow. Why not do both? That blueprint, if we can call it that, looks like it was made with a hotel pencil in a parking lot. It was a place to park. He scratched his neck. Didn't have much else. Fatima picked up the paper and looked at the lines that were smudged. Is this building, this dream, about you? Or are you still following Selene's shadow? Zach got tense. Really? I saw you glance at her last night. Like you were still attempting to get something. He leaned in and said softly. It's not about showing her she's incorrect. It's about showing that I'm right. Fatima's face didn't change. You were nothing when she left you, but now you want to save the world? He got up. Don't do that. What do you want? Just because I'm starting from the ground up, make me little. I know where I came from. I've eaten from the damn lines for food. But that doesn't mean I can't make something. Fatima looked at him. his stance, his fire. His voice's rawness made him feel naked in a way that suits and polished grins never could. So you're actually going to do this? "She asked softly. He said, "With or without you." But I'd rather it be with. She looked at the blueprint again. Her fingers delicately touched the lines he drew. You can't just show investors pencil drawings and give talks. You need to make actual plans. And permissions. And partners. Then he told me to instruct him. I'll put forth the effort. I'll even bleed for it. She looked into his eyes, but they were unreadable. At that moment, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and froze. Selene. She threw the phone face-down without saying a word. But suddenly someone else owned the tension in the room. The conference room smelt like fresh ink and lemon oil. Knox walked slowly and carefully across the polished hardwood floor, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a scotch glass too tightly for a man who was attempting to look