POV: NeomaIf the bedroom was a gilded cage, the dining hall was the butcher’s block.An hour after Viggo found me in the closet, I was marched down the corridor to a common area that connected the Vanguard’s private quarters.A long table of dark, polished mahogany dominated the room. It was set with silver and crystal that gleamed under the chandelier like rows of teeth.Commander Barzil sat at the head. A king in his own castle. He had shed his armor for a black tunic that did nothing to hide the width of his shoulders.Wolfy sat to his right, slicing a piece of steak with surgical precision. The knife snicked against the china—a sharp, efficient sound.Viggo sat at the far end, fidgeting with his fork. Bending the metal tines with unconscious strength.And there was one empty chair. To Barzil left."Sit," the Commander ordered. He didn't look up from his meal.I stood by the door. My arms crossed over my chest—a flimsy shield. I could still feel the weight of the butter knife tuck
Last Updated : 2026-02-12
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