[POV: Viggo]We cracked a bottle of cheap synthetic red in the common room. It tasted like chemicals and burned going down, but tonight, it was the best thing I’d ever drunk."You beat a Warlord!" I roared, the sheer disbelief still buzzing in my veins. I grabbed Neoma by the waist and spun her around, lifting her feet off the floor.She laughed, a breathless, surprised sound, gripping my shoulders tight. "Viggo! Put me down! I’m going to be sick!"I set her on the sofa carefully, my hands lingering on her waist for a second too long. She looked like a wreck—dirt-streaked face, torn suit, bruising blooming across her skin like storm clouds—but she was smiling. A real smile. Not the guarded, cynical smirk she used to wear like armor in the Dregs."You made her yield!" I grinned, crouching in front of her. "The Ice Bitch knelt! Did you see her face? Did you see the look in her eyes when you put that knife away?""I saw it," Neoma winced, clutching her side. Her smile faltered into a gri
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