No biotech before heirs.
The Crow Codex demanded six.
Not “aim for six.”
Six.
In our parents case. Two surrogates at a time. Two pregnancies stacked, then another set when the first ones took. Same egg and sperm, different women carrying them. Embryos transferred in batches, no editing, no pretty designer tweaks—just real-world IVF cycles and hormone charts and our mother sitting in consult rooms.
Nik and I landed in the middle run of that experiment. Six months apart because the doctor got creative with transfer dates and our mother didn’t like all her babies lining up in the same year on paper.
We never had a normal brotherhood.
“He took it personal. It wasn’t about club code. He went at those heirs like they’d laid hands on his girl.” I said, moving in the seat. Suddenly the day got heavy. A moment passed. I was ready to repeat myself when he spoke.
“They did. Touch his girl.”
“You knew.”
Paper slid against paper. “I wondered. The feeds from that club haven’t exactly been subtle. Rome personally escorting her around like a fucking guard dog? I figured it was more than good customer service.”
“Charlotte DuPont,” I muttered.
Another sovereign princess. Of course. Our brothers only ever fell for women whose names came with footnotes.
“She was waiting in that room for him,” I added. “He was late. They weren’t meant to be there at all. He made that very clear.”
“He’ll make it clearer if they come back,” Nik murmured.
I flicked ash, watched the ember flare. “Not if you keep him off flights. He said they had no right to be in that room, you know. Not ‘no right to touch clients.’ Not ‘no right to be in my club.’ That room.”
“Claim,” Nik breathed.
“Yeah.”
He shuffled something. Probably Rome’s file onto the stack labelled immediate problem.
“Charlotte?” he asked.
“Safe. She’s on one of our safe floors now. Refused a hospital. Didn’t want to explain why a Crow doctor was stitching her up.”
“Stubborn,” he said.
“Dynasty.”
Same thing.
I dragged on the cigarette, let the smoke sit in my chest.
“He’s not going to let it go. This isn’t a one-night temper.”
“No,” Nik agreed. “So we don’t put him anywhere near cameras or sovereign property for a few days.”
I tapped ash, watched the city climb higher as we left the lower districts. “Which brings us to tunnels. Friday.”
Guns. Product. One dynasty observer and two syndicates who thought Villain had weak spots.
Rome was supposed to run the line. I was supposed to stand at his shoulder and tilt the room with a look.
