The dining hall was eerily quiet, the sound of footsteps and the clinking of silverware the only noise to break the tension. The long table was set immaculately, every dish placed with precision, as if this meal were a royal banquet rather than another night of manipulation and mistrust.
I sat at the far end of the table, my hands folded neatly in my lap. Cassian, as always, took his seat at the head, his presence commanding despite the growing rift between us. Bennu lounged to his right, his ever-present smirk making me want to reach across the table and wipe it away. Armando sat to the left, his hulking frame and brooding silence as unsettling as the faint fog creeping in through the high windows.
Steam rose from the dishes—roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and thick loaves of bread. T
