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Summary
He studied the golden boy through the cams. The heir. The one who could doom Zay to legend, just as every mentor had been doomed before.
The screens glowed dim in the darkened room, each angle feeding him another slice of Cameron: the rise and fall of his chest, the restless twitch of a hand, the subtle crease between his brows. Zay never watched passively. He catalogued. Recorded. Memorized. Each movement filed into a system only he knew, the kind of precision that had carried him to the crown and kept it on his head.
Cameron slept tangled in his sheets, soft in slumber. Too soft. Zay had made it his mission to break that softness until not even his dreams betrayed it.