The dining hall was humungous and carpeted. A lavish crystal chandelier from Schonbek Arlington Collection was mounted on the delicately frescoed ceiling.

Rose gold sequin table cloth princely coated the long table with grandeur, and was screaming wealth. A grand round vase tainted the table setting with its glamorous decadence which showcased the French craftsmanship and the ne plus ultra of Baccarat’s crystal perfection.

Nothing filled the atmosphere, but wild pressure—one which was primarily caused by the gravity of the situation. Uncertainties and skepticism pretty much led the greetings.

The vastness of the place seemed brutal; it was to be respected, and at the same time, feared. The dining hall appeared to have never served its bountiful purpose. It looked like it was constructed in the form, and for the purpose of grand menace.

The golden wallcovering was outlined with some insignia, and emphasized by metallic highlights. That could be one proof in this whole ordeal.

Relaxation was strictly prohibited and unnecessary.

It did not require to be written all over the place because the thick air was responsible for someone to perceive that message alone. The ensnaring aroma which impregnated each and every corner of the room was dismal, lingering scents of dread making its presence known.

It was like a suspicion that wished to be recognized.

Daphne had never seen something so cold and empty.

She was specifically told to wait here until the person who summoned her arrived.

The traditional oak pendulum clock indicated that it had been twenty minutes since she came here, yet nobody showed up.

There were a total of twelve seats which the large table could accommodate, and none of those were dedicated to her. She did not think that she was worthy enough to sit down on those chairs. She had not been given a particular instruction that she could make herself at home, so it was best of her to just act accordingly.

That, she was instructed.

There was no point in making a fuss about it because she was at a complete disadvantage, given the condition she was in. The two guards did their best to keep her up, and she knew that they were just following orders.

She could not mess this up for them.

Her wish was simple. She did not want to bother anyone. Although she was not able to catch their names, she was still kind of happy that one of them was considerate enough.

For a callous palm, his touch was rather warm and careful, unlike the other one. They were constantly going at each other, and she felt bothered that there were people who would never hesitate to clash just because they did not share the same interest in deciding on what had to be done with her.

The loss of blood had begun taking a toll on her weak body, but she should not use that as an excuse anymore.

In the end, Daphne tried to make a proposal—to which they had both reluctantly agreed on.

“I-I think I can stay awake, and make things work on your end. Would you at least tend to my wounds please?”

She sensed their hesitation.

“We are not permitted to do that,” the man with raven hair replied harshly.

“Yet, she must be brought conscious to Tal,” the man, who seemed to be the voice of reason, retorted calmly.

“With all the blood loss? What did he expect?”

“Do not raise your voice. If anyone hears you, I am not quite certain what will happen. Most of all, I have never dreamed of sharing a punishment with you.”

The raven-haired man gasped. “I am going to kill you one day.”

“I am glad that our objective is mutual.”

The numbing sensation was starting to take over, and when they noticed the young Garza’s expression, they wasted no time. They ran a warm bath for her.

They washed her body.

They helped her in and out of the tub.

The two guards never, even once, insinuated something that would constitute discomfort. She felt ashamed, weak, and useless because of the fact that she needed them both to be her arms and legs.

At some point, their dedication and good nature reminded her of Bryon.

She felt like she needed to do something in return for them. She could not just keep receiving and receiving.

They did not take long in the bath.

Daphne heard one of them proclaiming that she might catch a cold, and it would not please Tal.

She really wanted to ask the two guards—talk to them. Although they did not get along much, she thought that having a conversation with them would not hurt.

However, she could not seem to find her voice.

She just sighed and looked down, staring at her fidgeting fingers. Tending to her wounds was the difficult part. Daphne had to feel the pain; welcome it, embrace it. She really imagined that she would pass out from it.

The conviction on their faces awakened her own resolve. They had no remaining time, and she could not afford stalling them here.

The three of them might be in the same room, same place, same territory, and same world—but they were all leading different fates. She should try not to be a bother next time. If she was going to chase freedom, she, first, had to be independent.

“You are not yet seated? That is new.”

The playful voice came from behind her.

Daphne turned around and saw one of Revolution’s men.

He was that Tal person.

Giving the young Garza a once over, the playful grin on his lips widened considerably, his eyes dancing in mischief and dark malice. “The look of exhaustion on your face is interesting. Have you already resigned to your fate?”

He took long strides, and in a blink of an eye, he was already in front of her.

“This is boring. Are you not going to fight me?” he asked while running a finger along her jaw.

When Daphne failed to reply, his face quickly morphed into an expression of genuine anger. A powerful slap echoed across the dining hall. “Answer me, bitch,” Tal snarled.