Draven.
The door clicked shut behind Wanda, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.
I leaned back in my chair, the wood creaking faintly under the shift of my weight.
My gaze drifted over the scattered parchments and a half-emptied crystal glass on the desk, but none of it held my attention now.
Wanda's words still hung in the air like the echo of a blade drawn in challenge.
"Let me train her. Just one session."
I steepled my fingers, pressing them lightly against my lips.
I could already see the truth behind Wanda's smooth, honeyed tone. She didn't want to train Meredith. She wanted to break her—to humble her, humiliate her. Maybe even worse.
And yet… I couldn't dismiss the thought so easily.
Wasn't that, in a way, what Meredith needed too?
I sat in silence, wrestling the conflicting thoughts.
Meredith had been showing fire lately at the training grounds—standing her ground, pushing past pain, even trying to throw a punch back at me.
