Sophia’s green eyes flickered to Jac’s one last time. Jac had a plan, but he didn’t have the voice to tell her. He tried to mouth it to her, but she shook her head. Jac knew she’d misunderstood. He hadn’t told her to run.
He’d told her to move.
With all the energy he could muster, he charged at Charles. The man neared the door’s threshold, focused on the pistol Sophia had pointed at him, just a few feet away. In the mirror, Jac glimpsed Charles’s smile when Sophia stepped back. For a moment, Charles had thought he’d won. He was already reaching for the door to close it, already licking his lips in anticipation.
Then Jac knocked into him with all the force he had. He dug his shoulder into Charles’s back and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. They stumbled onto the carpet, into the lights, and collided with the railing.
Charles slipped, and the momentum made him flip over. As he fell, a look of bewilderment crossed his face.
Charles’s luck had finally run out.
Screams erupted from the party below. Heaving for breath, Jac looked over the railing to see that Charles had fallen onto the casino’s spiral staircase, several of the wrought iron stakes protruding from his stomach. His bare chest, already laced with lashes and old scars, seeped over with red. His arms dangled limply beneath him, his mouth hung slightly ajar.
His bloodshot eyes were dead.
Sophia’s hands found Jac’s shoulders, pulling him away and into her. Jac buried his face in her shoulder and leaned against her to keep his balance.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You were right—”
“Don’t be sorry.” She rubbed her hand down his hair. Jac took deep breaths to steady himself, and he kept his gaze locked on the banquet hall, on the floor where he’d lain only moments before. He wanted to remember it like this—bright and empty.
“The Dove had escaped, and so I went to find you, just in case. But you were already gone.” She squeezed him tighter. “I wish I was angry with you.”
“You should be.”
She shook her head. “It’s over now. We’ll call Harrison and we’ll tell him that it’s finally done.”
Jac reached for the scar on his arm, but realized it no longer itched. So he rubbed his Creed instead. With each passing moment, the residual burning from Charles’s touch faded. The nightmare had finally reached its end.
Of all the pain he’d experienced tonight, he’d expected killing to hurt more than this—or at least to hurt at all.
Maybe your soul didn’t break like a bone. Maybe it broke like a promise.
LEVI
Levi caught his breath and knocked on Harrison’s door in the Kipling’s Hotel.
Last night, Vianca had put Levi up in his old room at St. Morse, as though his former apartment held any nostalgia for him. He’d lain restlessly on the familiar sheets, wondering if he could truly make a palace out of a prison, and realized that if he was going to accept this crown, he needed to know why the last prince had rejected it. He needed the truth.
“Levi,” Harrison greeted him as he swung the door open. He wore a satin robe and leather, fur-lined slippers. “Have you come to kill me?”
“Wh-what?” Levi stammered, panting. “Why would I be coming to kill you?”
“Because you’re pounding on my door at six in the morning, and because it’s the sort of thing my mother would probably send you to do.” Harrison looked him over with a crinkled nose. “And you’re sweating.”
“I took the stairs,” Levi explained.
“It’s the sixty-third floor.”
“Well, I couldn’t just walk in the front door like last time,” he snapped, bracing himself against the doorframe. “I’m alone, and there’s ten thousand volts on my head.”
“So dramatic,” Harrison muttered. He motioned for Levi to follow him inside, and Levi nearly collapsed onto the carpet. The room, like before, was covered in a disorganized mess of papers, telephones, and campaign buttons.
“I’m actually surprised my mother hasn’t sent anyone to assassinate me,” Harrison said, pouring Levi a glass of water. “Last night, I received word that Prescott’s eight-point lead in the polls is gone, and it’s all thanks to you.”
Levi opened his mouth to say, “Come again?” but quickly collected himself. He had no clue what’d given Harrison such a lead, but he was very willing to accept the credit. “Yes...yes, that’s why I’m here.”
Harrison cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Of course,” he said, smirking. He ushered Levi to the couch and handed him the glass. “Now that Charles Torren is dead, it will only be a matter of days until both casinos will be nothing but rubble, and I can grind my heels in the ashes.”
