The city glittered beneath him. Ethan Frost stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, his reflection staring back at him like a stranger who had learned how to wear his face. Lights stretched endlessly across the skyline—gold, white, alive. The Dominion thrived below him. His empire. His responsibility. His cage.
At thirty, he was everything they expected him to be. Controlled. Untouchable. Brilliant. Empty.
His jaw tightened slightly as he adjusted his cuff, a habit more than a necessity. Everything about him was precise, calculated down to the smallest detail. There was no room for error. There never had been, and yet…there was something missing. Not something he could name. Not something he could remember. Just… a gap. A quiet, persistent absence that followed him like a shadow he couldn't outrun.
The office door creaked open. "You've been up since before sunrise."
Rowan's voice cut through the silence, familiar and grounded. Ethan didn't turn. He didn't need to. He had known Rowan long enough to recognize him by the weight of his presence alone.
"Numbers?" Ethan asked.
"Strong," Rowan replied, stepping inside and placing a file on the desk. "Better than projected."
"Good." Short. Efficient. Done. That was how Ethan operated.
Rowan didn't leave.
Ethan finally glanced over his shoulder, one brow lifting slightly. "Something else?"
Rowan crossed his arms, studying him in that way he had—like he was trying to read what Ethan refused to say out loud.
"You didn't sleep." It wasn't a question.
Ethan turned back to the window. "I'm fine."
A pause. Then, quieter, "You've been saying that a lot lately."
Ethan didn't respond. Because there was nothing to say.
A soft knock - Aria. She stepped in without waiting, as she always did, carrying a mug that sent warmth into the otherwise sterile room.
"I thought you might need this," she said gently, placing it on his desk.
Ethan glanced at it. Coffee. Black. Exactly how he took it.
"Thanks."
Their eyes met briefly. Aria's gaze lingered just a second too long. She saw it. The exhaustion. The distance. She always did.
Cass entered moments later, tablet already in hand. "We're tracking growth in the eastern sector," she said without preamble. "Investments are stabilizing faster than expected."
Ethan nodded once. "Keep monitoring it." Professional. Detached. Safe.
Silence settled again. But it wasn't empty. Not really. It never was.
"Ethan." Aria's voice softened the air. He looked at her. "You're going to collapse one day if you keep this up."
A faint smirk touched his lips—brief, controlled.
"I'll survive."
She didn't look convinced.
Rowan exhaled quietly, pushing off the wall.
"Meeting in ten," he said. "Try to at least look human by then."
Ethan huffed a quiet breath—almost a laugh.
"Can't promise anything."
They left. One by one. The door clicked shut. Silence returned. But this time… It felt heavier.
Ethan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he turned back toward the city. For a moment, everything stilled.
The noise. The pressure. The constant pull of expectation.
And then a flicker, so faint he almost missed it. A feeling. Not a thought. Not a memory. Just… Warmth.
His brow furrowed. Something brushed the edges of his mind—soft, fleeting. A presence. Close. Familiar.
"…Ghost…" The word slipped under his breath before he could stop it. Ethan stilled. His own voice felt foreign in the silence. "…What?" He frowned, pushing away from the window. That didn't make sense. There was no one there. No memory to attach it to. No reason for the word to exist in his mind. And yet his chest tightened. Just slightly. As if something important had slipped through his fingers before he even knew he was holding it.
Ethan straightened, the moment gone as quickly as it had come. The mask slid back into place.
Cold. Controlled. Untouchable.
The city still glittered. The world still moved. And Ethan Frost walked back into it like nothing had ever been missing at all.