"The full Council. Seven members, including me." I stroke my thumb across her knuckles. "Senator Abraham you've met. Blackwood is the education chair—older, traditional, probably the hardest to impress. Catherine Reeves runs the financial sector. James Ashford is our legal mind. Victoria Chen handles international connections. And Marcus Webb oversees... operational matters."
"Operational matters," Eve repeats. "You mean the kind of operations that made Bryce Royston disappear?"
"Among other things."
She's quiet for a moment. "And they all know about us? About what you did?"
"They know I claimed you. They know I used Order resources to remove threats. They approved it." I bring her hand to my lips. "But they also know you had no part in any of it. You're not being evaluated for my sins, Eve. You're being evaluated for your own strengths."
The car pulls up to the entrance, and I see her straighten her spine, that quiet confidence settling over her like armor.
"Then let's show them what I'm made of," she says.
Inside, the Council is already assembled in the formal dining room. They stand as we enter—a sign of respect for my rank, and acknowledgment of Eve's importance.
The room itself is impressive—high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, walls lined with portraits of past Council members. The serpent symbol is woven subtly into the carpet pattern, the wallpaper, and even the china on the table.
But what catches my attention immediately is the unfamiliar face at the far end of the table.
A man stands with the others—tall, powerfully built, with dark hair and sharp features that might be handsome if they weren't set in such cold assessment. He's younger than most Council members, probably early thirties, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. There's something dangerous about him, something predatory in the way he moves, the way his dark eyes track our entrance with calculated interest.
I don't recognize him. And I make it my business to know everyone who matters in the Order.
"Gentlemen. Catherine. Victoria." I keep Eve's hand in mine as we cross to our seats at the head of the table, my gazebriefly meeting the stranger's. He doesn't look away, doesn't show deference. Interesting. "May I present Eve Sinclair. My queen."
The formal introduction hangs in the air. By calling her my queen, I've just declared my intention to eventually share my Council seat with her—something that hasn't been done in the Order's history. I see surprise flicker across several faces, but no one objects.
"Miss Sinclair." Senator Abraham smiles warmly. "A pleasure to see you again."
"Senator." Eve's voice is steady, gracious. "Thank you for having me."
"Please, sit." Catherine Reeves gestures to the seats. She's in her fifties, sharp-eyed and sharper-minded, her silver hair styled in an elegant chignon. "We've been eager to meet the woman who's captured Nathan's... attention."
As we take our seats, Abraham gestures to the unfamiliar man. "Before we begin, allow me to introduce our newest Council member. Damien Cross recently returned from our European operations. He'll be overseeing our East Coast expansion."
Cross inclines his head slightly—acknowledgment without submission. "Mr. Hale. Miss Sinclair. Congratulations on your... partnership."
There's something in the way he says it that makes my jaw tighten. Not quite mocking, but not quite sincere either. Eve's hand finds mine under the table, a subtle steadying touch.
"Mr. Cross," I say evenly. "Welcome to the Council."
His lips quirk in what might be amusement. "Thank you. I've heard quite a bit about you. Both of you." His gaze shifts toEve, lingering just a moment longer than strictly professional. "The Order's first potential queen. Quite the precedent you're setting."
"Someone has to," Eve says calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Change rarely comes from maintaining tradition."
Something flickers in Cross's dark eyes—surprise, maybe, or respect. "Indeed. I look forward to seeing what changes you bring."
The undercurrent in his words is subtle but unmistakable. He's not just talking about the Order. He's issuing some kind of challenge, or perhaps recognition of a kindred spirit. I can't quite tell which.
Abraham clears his throat. "Now then, shall we proceed?"
"His obsession, you mean," Eve says, addressing Catherine's earlier comment, and the room's energy shifts away from Cross. She's not playing their game of polite euphemisms. "Let's not pretend we don't all know how this started."
Blackwood—gray-haired, distinguished, traditional to his core—raises an eyebrow. Victoria Chen, younger and more progressive, hides a smile behind her wine glass.
"Direct," Marcus Webb observes. He's ex-military, built like a tank, with cold eyes that have seen too much. "I appreciate that."
"I appreciate honesty," Eve counters, meeting his gaze without flinching. "So let me be honest. I know what the Order is. I know what you do. I know Nathan used your resources to dismantle my life and rebuild it according to his design." She looks around the table, meeting each gaze steadily—including Cross's penetrating stare. "And I know you all approved it. Sobefore we pretend this is just dinner, let's acknowledge what it really is—you're deciding if I'm worthy of the power you've already given Nathan over me."
