Page 105 of The Silent War
At 19:03, Bastion texted:Ports.
I replied:Feed them to the cement.When your phone buzzes, look.
By 19:41, the alert I built for a man I won’t name went off again—predictable. He was somewhere he thought important, saying words he thought mattered. I muted him.
I put on a suit that said everything I needed without talking and went to dinner.
We would sit her between us. We would tell her the truth. We would listen to hers.
After, we would take her home.
Between now and then. While Bastion made the city quiet the way only he can, I would make sure the only sound he heard was the one we both live for: her, choosing us, even when she didn’t say it out loud.
When the elevator doors opened, I set the last automation: if she posted, route the buzz straight through the noise, past concrete and trucks, to the exact pocket where my twin keeps his phone when his hands are bleeding.
Chapter Thirty-Three
EMILIA
I couldn’t stop smiling.
It wasn’t dynasty-polished smiling either. Not the kind they trained into us at etiquette dinners.
Vivienne finally set her glass down, tilted her head.
“Alright. Spill it. You look like you’ve been microdosing joy. Did you sneak something into your mimosa? Because you’re practically high on your own smile.”
Charlotte leaned in with a grin, stabbing her fork through a strawberry. “Forget drugs. She’s clearly overdosing on lip balm. Honestly, Em, that’s the only way dynasty daughters survive brunch. Lip balm and sarcasm.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s not drugs.”
Vivienne arched a brow, lips curving. “Not lip balm either?”
“No.” I bit my lip. “It’s… men.”
Both of them froze. And then grinned like they’d rehearsed it.
“Ohhh.” Vivienne dragged out the word until it was practically a song. “Plural.”
Charlotte gasped, hand to her chest. “Plural men. Emilia Adams, you scandal.”
“Stop.” I tried to hide my face, which only made them laugh harder.
Vivienne leaned closer. “So which men? Because if I were you, I’d be smiling like that too if Alaric Vale had finally decided to loosen up.”
“God, Viv,” Charlotte groaned, rolling her eyes. “Vale doesn’t loosen. He probably irons his socks.”
I choked on my water, laughing too loud. A few heads turned from the next table, all pretending not to listen while very much listening.
Vivienne flicked her gaze toward them, then back at me with a smirk. “Ignore them. They’d sell their grandmothers for a whisper of gossip.”
Charlotte nudged me under the table. “So if it’s not Vale, then who? You can’t dropmenlike that and not explain.”
I shook my head. “I’m not explaining.”
Vivienne gasped, eyes going wide, then narrowed like she’d just solved a riddle.
“Oh my God. It’s them, isn’t it? The Crow twins.”
