Page 106 of The Silent War
Charlotte’s fork clattered against her plate. “You’re kidding.”
I didn’t answer. Which was as good as confession.
Charlotte covered her mouth, whisper-squealing. “Emilia.”
“Well, that explains the smile.” Vivienne grinned, “And the glow. And the way you just looked down when I said their name.”
Heat ran up my neck. “You two are impossible.”
Charlotte’s grin only widened. “You’re back with the Crows.”
Vivienne clinked her glass against mine before I could protest. “Em wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Because,” Vivienne leaned in, “Charlotte’s been sneaking around with one brother. I’ve been sneaking around with one brother. And you—” she gestured at me with her glass, eyes bright, “you’ve gone and doubled the score. Two Crows. At once.”
Charlotte covered her face, half-mortified, half-giggling. “Vivienne!”
“Oh, don’t even pretend,” Vivienne shot back. “We’re all keeping secrets. Might as well toast them.”
I shook my head, laughing so hard it hurt. “You’re both terrible.”
“Maybe,” Charlotte said, “but you’re the scandal, Em. Not us.”
Vivienne lifted her glass again. “To dynasty daughters who know better, and do it anyway.”
We clinked. Because happiness was usually short lived in our world. So when you had it, you held on to it for as long as possible.
Chapter Thirty-Four
BASTION
Cement trucks beeped as they reversed. My men moved in rhythm — chains scraping across the pit’s edge, ropes pulled tight around thrashing bodies.
“Headfirst or feet first, boss?” one of the enforcers called, shovel braced on his shoulder.
I dragged smoke into my lungs. Let it burn down. Exhaled.
“Headfirst. Faster.”
The man nodded, hauled the rival forward. A wet thud, then the scream cut short. Another Friday night in Villain. Another leak to cauterize.
Someone thought they could bleed us without consequence. Leaking manifests before the containers even touched the dock.
Luca was tightening encryption, rerouting everything through offshore shells. I was here handling the other side — the human side. Which meant dragging traitors out of their beds, breaking fingers until they admitted who whispered numbers into ears, and feeding what was left to cement and tide.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
My hand moved before thought. Pulled it out, thumb swiping across.
Veil lit up.
Her.
Fresh post.
Pink clung to her ribs. Light traced her collarbone, skin glowing like it had been staged for me. For us.
