As we waited in the living room, the soft hum of approaching voices and footsteps signaled the arrival of more guests. Rachel excused herself to greet them, leaving Aria and me to exchange a quick look—her wide-eyed excitement a stark contrast to my practiced calm.
Lucifer Windward was the first to enter, his polished demeanor as striking as always. His forest-green suit complemented his vivid verdant eyes, giving him an air of effortless regality. He strode into the room with the kind of presence that made everyone unconsciously straighten up, his gaze cool and sharp as it swept across the room.
"Arthur," he greeted, his tone measured but respectful. "Good to see you again."
"Lucifer," I nodded in return, feeling the usual undercurrent of rivalry between us. There was no malice—just the unspoken acknowledgment of our positions and the gap I was steadily closing.
