Twilight Aftermath: Kingdom ( Twiath: I )

Chapter 3: Declaration

It takes every ounce of restraint I have to keep my anger in check as I stare into the eyes of the silver-eyed man. That smirk on his face, so casual and mocking, is a constant reminder of how close he came to ending my life. My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. My instincts scream at me to keep still, to wait; they know that if I let my emotions loose now, if I even take a single step toward him, I won't make it out of this room.

"Yet another headache," Xavier mutters under his breath, the irritation in his voice unmistakable. I don't look away from the man in the doorway, not for a second, but I catch the edge of Xavier's tone. His annoyance feels almost grounding in the thick tension, like the only honest thing in this room.

"Don't be a meanie, Xavvy," the man replies, his voice laced with mock cheerfulness. He turns to Xavier, but I keep my gaze steady, fighting the urge to lunge at him. Every muscle in my body coils, ready to spring, but I grit my teeth and hold myself back.

He steps further into the room, his long silver sleeves shifting as he slides his hands beneath them, resting them on Xavier's shoulder. The touch seems casual, but there's something unsettling about it—like a snake coiling, biding its time.

"More importantly—" He trails off, his eyes sharpening as they leave Xavier and find me again. Our gazes collide, and for a split second, everything around us fades. The air turns cold and sharp, so tense it feels like the room could shatter with one wrong move. I'm frozen, every breath burning my lungs as if the very air could cut me.

His expression shifts subtly, a flicker of recognition sparking in those silver eyes, before he tears his gaze away from mine and returns it to Xavier. "Why is the outsider here?" His voice is deceptively calm, but the underlying edge is as sharp as a blade.

Every nerve in my body screams, the barely contained rage sparking like fire beneath my skin. But I stay seated, my fists clenched under the table, my jaw tight as I hold back the storm surging inside me.

"Oh, Saxon," Clandestina's voice cuts in from the corner, drenched in amusement. The sudden interjection eases the tension in the room just a fraction, enough to make me shift my gaze toward her. She looks pleased, like she's relishing the chaos. "Did you know that this little boy, Chiaro, is going to join your unit?"

"Saxon? Join his unit?" The thought jolts through me, and before I can stop myself, I rise from the chair, the legs scraping against the wooden floor with a harsh sound. My fists clench as I process the reality that I'm being thrown into the hands of the man who knocked me unconscious.

But before either Saxon or I can say anything, Xavier's movement is sudden and sharp. He shoves Saxon's hand off his shoulder with a violent flick, the sound slicing through the silence like a whip. "Hey, Silverfox," Xavier's voice is as cold as ice, his eyes narrowing into something dark and fathomless, almost threatening. "If you don't want me pulling the strings of your life, show some respect."

The atmosphere crackles with energy as he steps forward, his shoulder connecting with Saxon's in a forceful nudge that pushes him aside. "Chiaro will join the Nightstalkers," he states, each word carved with certainty. "You said he can fight, and he's an outsider. We need every force we can get, and your unit is perfect for him." Without waiting for a response, Xavier turns on his heel and storms out of the room, each step heavy, determined, leaving behind an echo that feels final.

I sink back into the chair, a storm of thoughts churning in my mind. My teeth grind together as I grasp the reality—there is no room for objection. I'm bound to this, to them, whether I like it or not.

Xavier is almost out of sight when Saxon calls out, his voice a mixture of concern and urgency but there's still that lace of mocking tone he's known for. "Xavvy, about Princess Luciel—"