Page 41 of The Silent War
Alexander’s voice smoothed as though fury could be replaced with strategy.
“I’ll cancel the parade,” he said.
The words stopped me.
He watched me carefully, letting them hang in the air, calculated mercy dressed as concession. “The tour after your twenty-first was supposed to be staged. Contracts paraded, heirs lined up like auctioneers. That was before the will. Before the Accord. I’ll cancel it. No showcases.”
I blinked. Slowly. My pulse was a drum against my ribs.
He leaned back in his chair, steady, controlled. “You’re not for sale. I’ll prove that. The Adams name won’t stand you beneath chandeliers like an ornament to be bartered. I’ll shield you from it.”
My throat tightened.
Because part of me wanted to believe him. To believe there was mercy hidden beneath all the dynasty sharpness. That my brother — my last anchor — would step into the role Father left behind and protect me, not trade me.
But the other part — the part still raw from years of rehearsed smiles, from every etiquette drill, from being told one day you’ll be leverage — knew better.
The fact was, father had made sure Alexander would have to.
I looked at the paper across the table.
Our father didn’t agree with a lot of what the Dynasty said. That was the reason I sat on his lap for most meeting
“Wasn’t that always your job?” I asked softly.
His eyes flicked sharp.
“You were supposed to be shielding me already. When they paraded me through Ascension Hall at fourteen. When they made me bow in dresses to men who measured my waist like it was livestock stocktaking. When they sat me beside cousins twice my age and whispered dowry numbers under the table. Weren’t you meant to be stopping that then?”
The silence cut colder than his fury had.
He exhaled through his nose, “I was protecting what I could. But I didn’t have the Accord then to leverage the Dynasty. Now I do. Through you.”
“Through me,” I repeated bitterly.
“Yes. And that makes me dangerous enough to pull you out of the parade. To tell the Sovereign Council that you won’t be auctioned. That we’ll find the right person, not the highest bidder.”
His voice dropped, almost kind. “You want control? This is how it starts. I’ll choose with you, not for you. I’ll make sure he understands. That he knows you’re not just a name to absorb. That the Accord isn’t his to bleed.”
The way he said it almost sounded like love.
But I could see the truth beneath it — the same truth I had seen when he folded the folder shut. His promise wasn’t for me. It was for the dynasty. The corridor.
And yet… a part of me still wanted to hold the words close.
Because when he said you’re not for sale, it almost felt like he meant it. Almost.
Chapter Fifteen
BASTION
The storm had caused a blackout to half the city.
Block by block, towers went dark. Traffic blind. Generators were supposed to hold us. Hospitals. Our grids.
They hadn’t.
The garage lights flickered twice as a warning. I didn’t wait for my driver. Every second pressed on my chest like weight. I needed to move. I needed Luca in the same room, not across a line. To see him breathing.
