The Dinner
Chapter 4: The Dinner
The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a room that didn’t belong in this brutal world.
It was beautiful.
The walls were lined with shelves of real books—leather-bound, old and rare. An antique globe sat in the corner. Velvet curtains hung over tinted windows. A fireplace flickered with controlled flames.
This was a collector’s room. A predator’s den.
And in the center, a single dining table. Intimate. Polished dark wood. Two crystal glasses. Two plates.
Two chairs.
Ameena stood still in the doorway, dressed in a backless slip of black silk that brushed just below her thighs. No bra. No shoes. No protection.
But her mind was armored.
She stepped forward on bare feet, refusing to let them see her hesitate. The female guard had vanished. No allies here. Just her and the monster.
Commander Voss stood by the fire, hands behind his back. His jacket was gone. He wore a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing smooth, pale skin and the edge of a tattoo—unusual for a man of his rank.
He turned when she entered.
Not like he’d been waiting.
More like he’d already owned the moment and was simply allowing it to begin.
“Ameena,” he said, and her name in his mouth sounded like possession. “Sit.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she looked around the room slowly, deliberately. “Nice cage. For a war criminal.”
He smiled and gestured to the chair. “Humor. Good. I was afraid they’d already hollowed you out.”
She moved to the table but didn’t sit. “I’m not here to entertain you.”
“Oh, but you are,” he said smoothly, walking toward her. “That’s the beauty of this country now. Every woman serves her purpose.”
She tensed as he reached out, brushing a hand along her bare shoulder. “Yours, however, might be… special.”
“I’d rather die.”
He leaned close to her ear. “That’s not off the table.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. But she held his gaze when he stepped in front of her.
“You want obedience,” she said, voice low. “But I know your type. You want a fight. You want the break to mean something.”
He studied her, something sharp glittering in his eyes.
“You’re very smart,” he said. “Most women cry by now. Or try to seduce. You’re the rare kind that tries to control the room from beneath the boot.”
“I won’t be your toy,” she said.
He stepped closer. Inches between them now. “No. You’ll be my obsession.”
That startled her more than she let show.
He motioned again to the chair. “Sit, Ameena. Eat with me. Not because you’re told, but because you want to survive the night.”
She sat.
He poured the wine himself. Rich red. Like blood.
They ate in silence for a while—venison and roasted root vegetables, flavors she hadn’t tasted since the world changed. Each bite reminded her of what the old world once had. And what men like him had stolen.
But he didn’t eat much.
He watched her.
“You’re waiting for me to beg, aren’t you?” she finally said.
“No,” Voss replied. “Begging is for weak men. I want you to come to me willingly. Craving.”
“I’d rather set myself on fire.”
His smile returned. “Then I’ll be the flame.”
She stood abruptly, the silk of her gown whispering around her thighs. “You won’t win. Not with me.”
“You’re already here,” he said softly. “Already marked. Already bound. The game has begun, Ameena. The only question is… will you survive long enough to see how deep it goes?”
He approached her slowly, deliberately.
Then he stopped just short of touching her.
“If you try to run, you’ll be punished. If you try to kill me, you’ll fail. But if you play smart, I might keep you alive. I might even let you choose how you kneel.”
She didn’t blink. “And if I win?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then I’ll burn for you.”
For one breathless moment, silence hung like a blade between them.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the golden light of the fire.