LIAM’S P.O.V
The war room emptied slowly after the final briefing, but the weight of everything stayed behind like a shadow crawling under my skin. I stood alone beside the map table, my hands braced on the edge. The obsidian dagger lay beside my arm. Its black surface drank the light. It felt like it was waiting.
Aragorn stirred inside me. He was restless tonight. Pacing. Watching. Ready to tear through anyone who stood in our way. I felt the pressure of him in my lungs, heavy and hot.
You trained them well, he said. But you trained yourself even harder.
“Someone has to set the standard,” I muttered.
He huffed. You mean someone has to lose sleep while trying to look intimidating.
I almost smiled. “Is it working?”
Most days. Today, you look like a man who drank poison on purpose.
I
