“Ten seconds, Mr. Aldridge. Please look directly into Camera One.”

The floor manager’s voice was a whisper, but it sounded like a thunderclap in the silent, high-tech cavern of the news studio. The air was frigid, smelling of ozone and expensive cologne. Lucian sat on the edge of the leather armchair, his hands folded neatly on his lap. He wasn’t wearing his usual armor; he had chosen a simple navy suit, no tie, and his top button was undone. He looked human. He looked vulnerable.

Beside the camera, hidden in the shadows of the wings, Celeste stood with her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Marcus was next...