Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
I have demands.
Tonight, I intend to make them clear.
I open the door and step into the corridor. Wolf falls in at my right, Dove between us. We link hands without discussion. It steadies the pace and keeps us aligned as we move through the citadel.
Three people choosing the same direction.
The walk to the dining hall takes ten minutes. By the time we arrive, the room is already coming alive. Chairs slide back. Quiet discussions taper off. One by one, the rest of the twenty-two filters in.
Matias takes his place at the head of the table, Camila on his right and Van on his left.
Camila motions at me then the chair beside her. I take the offered seat with Wolf at my side and Dove next to him.
Conversation fills the table as plates arrive in an endless procession of appetizers. Crisped arepas topped with warm hogao. Bowls of ajiaco broth, fragrant with guascas.
I’m slowly learning the food, but there are a few things I don’t recognize as the hiss of hot plates meets wood.
The aromas of corn, citrus, and slow-cooked meats circulate the room, threaded with the clink of cutlery and the murmurs of easy camaraderie. Family updates are shared, jokes traded, and a few dry comments draw laughter. I answer where appropriate and nod where it’s expected.
Wolf charms without trying, asking a question here, offering an offensive punchline there. Dove listens, eyes moving, absorbing the dynamics with the same attention she gives an engine.
Matias rises.
The room quiets with him, chairs easing back, and conversations tapering into stillness. He lifts his glass and looks down the length of the table, expression composed and satisfied.
“Welcome home.” He smiles warmly. “It’s rare to have us all in one place. We’re usually scattered across the globe, most of you on reconnaissance or undercover operations, dangerous work that keeps us moving. But for this…” He tips his drink in my direction. “For El Vigilante, you all came back.”
“It’s called FOMO.” Camila laughs.
A ripple of assent moves around the table. Glasses lift.
“And you…” Matias turns fully toward me. “You have done this. Your presence gathered the circle. For that, you have my thanks. Our thanks.” He lifts his glass higher. “Salud.”
“Salud,” the table answers, voices overlapping and glasses meeting with ringing clinks.
I take a sip, let the moment settle, and set down my glass.
When I clear my throat, it’s soft but deliberate. Heads turn. The room yields again.
“Thank you for the hospitality. For the welcome. For the food.” I incline my head to Camila, then Matias. “It’s been… Thorough.”
A few smiles flicker. I don’t return them.
“There’s something we need to discuss before the next course.” I square my shoulders. “A demand. Two of them, actually.”
“This should be interesting.” Van reclines, waggling a toothpick between his lips.
Matias lifts a hand, the motion casual but carrying weight.
“Hable con todos.” He flicks his fingers outward, indicating the table. “Speak.”
“All right.” I turn my body toward the circle and let my gaze travel, meeting eyes and measuring attention. “Wolf accepted your job offer, but I have limits. His involvement will be solely in an intelligence capacity. He’ll provide analysis, strategy, and ideas.” I clamp a hand on his jogging knee beneath the table, calming him. “He will not be deployed as a spy. He will not be an operative. He will not be placed in the field or anywhere that requires a weapon.”
I squeeze his knee, a quiet warning, and feel the argument coil in him anyway. When we talked this through earlier, he said this condition wasn’t necessary, that he could handle himself.
Dove and I didn’t budge.
In our democracy of three, he lost that vote.
“He stays here.” I keep my hand on his leg, reminding him to remain quiet. “At the table. In rooms like this. Where minds are used instead of bodies.”
“What I’m hearing is…” Van grins around the toothpick. “No more wearable surprises?”
“No bombs. No bullets. No danger. Wolf stays out of the line of fire.” I set my forearms on the table and harden my voice. “I agreed to give you my life for one reason only. The protection of Wolf and Dove.”
“The terms changed.” Matias sips from his glass, watching me over the rim. “When your Wolf arrived wearing a bomb, he demonstrated capabilities that align with our needs.”
“He is not collateral!” I slam a fist onto the table, rattling the dishes. “He’s not leverage or incentive or a fucking clause in a contract. Everything else is negotiable. That is not.”
The room goes quiet, eyes shifting, calculating, but not objecting.
Matias studies Wolf, assessing posture and expression, marking Wolf’s stillness, which reads as confidence rather than compliance. Then his gaze returns to me.
“I’ll agree,” he says at last. “With conditions.”
Here we go.
“I’m listening.”
“Wolf answers to the table.” He tips his glass at the inner circle. “Not to you alone. When we ask for his mind, we get it. Fully.”