"Nathaniel," I barked, my eyes never leaving the stunned, pale face of Amaya’s father as her footsteps faded down the western gallery. “Yes, Uncle?” He replied. "Handle things with Victor. Disarm his front line, secure their communication array, and escort our.……,” I stared daggers at Victor and his men, “Esteemed guests to the lower holding quarters until dinner is served." "Understood, Lord Bane," Nathaniel said, his voice clipped, professional, and entirely devoid of the personal friction that had defined our morning. “And how can we be so sure that taking our weapons isn’t a trick to murder us later?” Victor asked with a bold smirk. “Because your daughter will kill me if I try that. Besides, she probably wants to be the one to kill you herself” “You watch your tongue, Bane!” “See you at dinner, Victor” I didn't wait to watch the guards strip Victor of his heavy submachine gun. The white-hot relief that had crashed through my chest when Amaya chose not to leave
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