“Martine is no longer your concern. She was never part of this. If Ford returns, you remove the clause. She is not to be watched, followed, touched, or used in any way. Ever.”
The Chairman folds his hands in front of him, fingertips resting together like a man preparing to accept communion.
“You’re offering something we can accept, but we refuse your terms of the Legacy,” he says.
My jaw tightens. “You just said the Legacy training could be finished early. You said his training was complete.”
He tilts his head slightly, as if amused by the assumption.
“It was,” he replies. “The Fordham Huntington-Russell Legacy training is concluded.”
A pause. A breath.
“But there’s still Martine,” he continues, “the Huntington-Russell…and now Taft Legacy.”
The words land with the intensity of thunder. I don’t speak, continuing to hold my cards close. The Brotherhood always knew the truth; they just needed my confirmation of it.
Because I know exactly what he’s saying.
They’re transferring the obligation. The Legacy doesn’t end. It evolves. And now it’sMartinewho owes them a favor.
The Brotherhood never forgets a bloodline. The Brotherhood believes in blood as currency. Martine represents the perfect vessel—a symbol of lineage, obedience, and control. A marriage of three of the most powerful names: Huntington-Russell, Taft, and Herron. In their eyes, she isn’t just a wife. She’s a consolidation of power.
And they want to control the bloodline that holds that much power, as it’s never historically existed before.
My voice cuts through the stillness, low and controlled, but barely.
“What does that mean for her?”
The Chairman doesn’t blink. “It means your wife now owes us a favor.”
“I didn’t ask for riddles,” I bite. “What kind of assignment are you planning to give her?”
He leans back, the candlelight flickering across his expression, unreadable and godless. “When the time comes, you’ll know.”
I take a step forward. “If you touch her—if you drag her into this—”
He holds up a hand, calm as ever. “You need to remember, you’re the one who dragged her into this. We don’t need anything from her right now.”
The words hit like ice.
“We honor our side of the negotiation,” he says. “Ford is yours.”
Archie shifts beside me. Hudson exhales quietly.
But I don’t move.
Because this isn’t a victory, this wasn’t what I was willing to give up. They’ve handed Ford over, but they’ve marked Martine. She’s on their ledger now.
And the Brotherhood never writes down a name they don’t intend to collect.
I don’t move. My voice comes out colder this time, “Is she going to be trained?”
The word hangs heavy in the space between us. The knowledge of what Ford endured simmers beneath my skin. I’ve only heard rumors of the worst kind. The torture. The isolation. The mind games dressed up as Legacy training. The Chairman doesn’t flinch.
“No.”
“She won’t be pulled into rites?” I press. “Conditioning? Testing?”
