Meanwhile, in the quiet confinement of the room, the atmosphere was far removed from the chaos brewing elsewhere.
A chessboard sat between Asher and Harlan, its black and white pieces arranged in a battlefield of silent war. The game had long passed the stage of casual play—this was no longer entertainment. It had turned serious.
Deadly, even.
Oliver stood a few steps away, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the board. At first, he hadn't cared much for it. Chess had always seemed too technical, too slow, too… dull.
But this—
This was something else entirely.
From what he had observed, Asher had been in control from the beginning. Every move he made carried purpose, every sacrifice calculated. Yet, somehow, the board told a different story.
It looked like Harlan was winning.
Pieces tilted in his favor. Positioning that suggested dominance.
But Oliver knew better.
"Hmm…" he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing slightly. "What a manipulative player…"
