Freya’s POV

The air was thick with stillness.

All around me, the Hunters were frozen in place, like coiled springs waiting to snap. Their bows were notched, blades unsheathed—one word from Tiberius and blood would spill across the grass like wine.

But he didn’t speak. He just looked at me.

Everyone waited for his command, but his eyes were locked on mine.

Not Victor. Not the others. Me.

My lungs were tight. Breaths came fast, shallow. The pressure in ...