Before the dynasty crumbled, she fell into my pal…

Seraphina Blackwood stood at the center of the command room, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, the curves beneath her battle robe as silent and sharp as a blade. She was the iron-blooded empress of the Fire Phoenix Kingdom—had killed a president, slaughtered nine out of ten men, and never in her life cast a proper glance at any male creature. Outside, wind and snow howled, and frontline battle reports grew more desperate one after another—her dynasty was collapsing. But she did not know that the real danger lay not on the icy plains thousands of miles away, but right behind her, inside this very command room. Tristan Montclair lay hidden in the ventilation shaft, holding his breath, his fingers hovering just above the listening device. He had been waiting for this day for seven years.