The Strategic Asset

The cold stone of my study table felt hard and real under my palms. I needed that grounding. Everything else felt like a lie, a fever dream, or a threat.

I stared down at the map I had damaged the night before. There was still a visible crack where my fist had landed. It was a physical mark of my failure, a stain on my perfect control. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of heat through my chest, not the pain of the bond, but the simple, sharp burn of fury.

She makes me weak. ...