Violet Midnight’s POV
Imperial High Courtyard – Late Morning
The courtyard buzzed with tension—low murmurs, shifting feet, too many eyes flicking toward the center stage where Harris stood like a storm about to break. The air smelled like salt and iron, a bitter reminder of yesterday’s bloodshed.
I stood still.
Pierce was a few feet behind me, unreadable. Delancey lingered near the back, bruised but not bowed. Caleb and Dax were silent flanks on either side of the crowd, glancing at me with a wariness that tasted like respect.
Harris cleared his throat.
“All of you were watched,” he began, his voice steady and commanding.
“Every strike, every dodge, every moment of hesitation—evaluated.”
Luthor approached from behind him like a shadow made of smoke and ego, lips twisted in a smirk.
