Not because I don’t have one.
Because I want him to actually hear it.
“I’d make him prove it,” I say.
Verr’s brow furrows slightly.
“Prove what?”
“That he’s better than you,” I reply.
“He already did.”
“No,” I shake my head. “He showed you that in private. That doesn’t mean anything out there.”
I gesture vaguely toward the walls, toward everything beyond them.
“He controls this place because everyone believes he should,” I continue. “Because no one’s ever seen him lose. No one’s ever seen him challenged in a way that matters.”
“And you think I can change that,” Verr says.
“I think you can force him to,” I reply.
He watches me for a second, something shifting behind his eyes now—less frustration, more calculation.
“How?”
I let out a slow breath, then step back just enough to give the idea space.
“You don’t fight him here,” I say. “You don’t fight him like that.”
“Then how?”
“You challenge him,” I say.
“That’s what I just did.”
“No,” I shake my head again. “You attacked him. That’s different.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
“Explain.”
I nod once.
“Publicly,” I say. “Formally. You force it into a structure he can’t ignore without looking weak.”
Verr’s posture shifts, just slightly.
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is if you make it,” I reply.
“He can refuse.”
“Not without consequence,” I say. “Not if you do it right.”
He studies me now, really studies me, the way he does when something actually matters.
