Classic's POV
Amara turned to face me fully, her eyes sharp like drawn blades, yet hiding a storm behind them. The chamber dimmed in silence as her voice cut through the tension.
"Do you support me, Classic?" she asked. Not as a commander, not even as Chris's chosen. But as a woman stepping into power. As 02. As Empress.
I didn't answer immediately.
Chris stood at the far end, arms crossed, watching the exchange with that calculating stillness of his. He wasn't going to intervene. This was between us. A test of hierarchy, of allegiance, of personal conviction.
I stepped closer to Amara.
"You've proven yourself," I said quietly. "You've bled for this empire. You've protected him… even from himself."
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"But loyalty?" I continued. "It's earned every day. I support the empire. I support my father. If he believes you're the right person to sit beside him, then I support you."
She didn't blink. "That's not what I asked."
I paused. Then, I answered without hesitation.
"Yes. I support you, Amara. Not just because Chris chose you—but because you've earned your place. You've led, fought, survived. And if this empire must be reborn, it needs someone like you to carry the flame."
A flicker of something passed through her eyes. Relief? Respect? Maybe even the beginning of trust.
Chris finally spoke, breaking the silence.
"Then we are no longer divided. From now on, no one moves alone."
Amara looked at me again, her voice softer this time.
"Then we move as one."
I gave a short nod. "As one."
To be continued…