The Commander (Dominion Hall #3)

32

ATLAS

I stood in the foyer of Dominion Hall, rain still dripping from my coat, the storm’s quiet eye holding the world in a fragile pause. Anna’s parents faced me—Alexey and Irina Peters—two figures carved from resilience, their eyes sharp with a wariness I recognized. It was the look of people who’d run from shadows and built a life over the cracks. I’d seen it in my own father’s face too many times.

The air smelled of wet stone and candle wax, the backup lights casting long shadows across the hardwood. My brothers lingered behind me, a wall of silent strength—Marcus, Ryker, the others—watching but not interfering. Anna stood a step to my left, her hand brushing mine, her breath uneven. She didn’t know what I was about to ask, but she trusted me.