Chapter 5 Game in the shadows

The room was quiet again.

Damian hadn't said another word after sliding the drink toward her. He simply walked to the window, the city lights behind the glass casting a faint golden glow across his profile. Hands tucked into his pockets. Calm. Detached. Dangerous.

Lyra didn't touch the drink.

She was trying to decipher him, and that alone was exhausting. He hadn't threatened her. Hadn't raised a voice. Hadn't even denied her claim.

And yet she felt cornered.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" she asked.

He didn't answer immediately.

"I'm giving you time to explain what you really want," he finally said, still facing the window. "Because if all you're after is the name, then you're already dead."

Lyra crossed her arms. "I told you the truth."

"There's always another truth," Damian said quietly. "Especially in this world."

He turned back to her, gaze sharp and unreadable. "You've made a claim. You stirred the dust. But you don't know what lives underneath it yet."

"Then show me," she said.

That made him pause.

"You don't get to demand anything, Lyra."

"No," she said coolly. "But if you're not going to kill me or drag me out in chains, then you're keeping me for a reason."

A ghost of a smirk.

"I'm curious," he admitted. "You walked into this like you knew where all the knives were hidden. That either makes you smart... or suicidal."

She stepped closer. "Try me."

Damian studied her, then walked back to the desk and pulled out a drawer. He tossed something onto the table between them.

An envelope.

She picked it up, opened it.

Inside: a photograph. A name. A location scribbled on the back.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Your test."

"You want me to kill someone?"

"If I did, I wouldn't ask you," he said flatly. "You're not a killer."

"Then what's the game?"

"You want a seat at this table?" Damian's voice darkened. "Earn it. Find that man. Follow him. Don't be seen. And don't ask questions."

Lyra's jaw tightened.

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll call the council tomorrow," he said smoothly. "And I'll let the old families tear you apart in front of a fireplace like this one."

He smiled, too calm.

"I'd even offer them wine."

She didn't blink.

She simply folded the photo, tucked it into her coat, and turned to leave.

But just before she stepped out the door, Damian called out.

"You'll want to be careful, Lyra."

She glanced back.

"Why's that?"

"Because you're not the only one who thinks the throne is up for grabs."

Later that night, as she slipped into the quiet streets, the city air cold on her skin, Lyra felt the pulse of adrenaline creeping back into her veins. She'd played the bold move. Declared herself. And instead of being cut down-

He gave her a leash. Or a trap.

She didn't know which yet.

But this is definitely war.

And Damian Arceo?

He played it in the shadows- with a smile.