The mayor's office was filled with a silence too heavy to be comfortable.
Strax sat in the central chair, the same one that until a few hours ago had belonged to the most powerful man in Athenion. He occupied the seat with irritating ease, his elbow resting on the carved armrest, his posture relaxed, as if he were in a routine meeting and not at the epicenter of a political rupture.
Sitting on his lap, Rogue seemed completely oblivious to the tension around her.
The tanned woman playfully ran her finger across his chest, drawing lazy circles on the fabric of his coat, her face illuminated by a smile too satisfied for someone who should be worried. Her legs were crossed to the side, her body nestled against his as if that position were not only comfortable but correct. There was something almost provocative in the way she settled there—not sexual, but intimate, possessive, a silent declaration of belonging.
Around the long table, important men and women exchanged cautious glances.
