Chapter 137: The Claymore puppet (3)

Damian stepped through the chamber doors, and Gabriel, Max, and Anabelle followed him without hesitation.

Gabriel and Max dipped their heads respectfully, while Anabelle maintained her signature sharpness. It was a subtle gesture, but it acknowledged the gravity of the situation and the man who now commanded it.

The room was filled with cool morning light, which filtered through tall windows and etched sigils. The long table was already covered in documents, crystal decanters, and untouched portfolios.

At the far end, there stood George Claymore, his hands on the back of his chair.

He hadn't turned.

Not when the Emperor entered.

Not when his own son had been dragged away.

Not even now, as silence claimed the chamber.

With his hands resting on the back of the chair in front of him and his shoulders held taut, he stood motionless, his posture too perfect. A man carved out of stone.