Lorraine's POV
The air turned colder the moment Astrid turned toward the guards stationed at the door.
"Barricade the room," she commanded, her tone firm, void of hesitation.
The guards obeyed instantly. Heavy iron bars screeched into place as they sealed off the entrance. A soft click followed, a sound that somehow rang louder than any scream could.
Then, with the same detached poise, Astrid walked to the far wall, where a massive sword hung like a relic of war. It wasn't just for decoration. It was long, cruel, and built for the kind of violence that left no survivors. She reached up, unhooked it, and carried its weight without so much as a tremble in her arms.
Her footsteps echoed as she returned, the blade glinting under the chandelier's glow. I couldn't tear my eyes away. That sword wasn't just sharp, it was ancient. Hungry. The kind of weapon you used not to fight.... but to end.
Astrid bowed low and extended the hilt to the Alpha King.
