"We have the money," he says. "We have the city."
He looks around at the wreckage, at the burning crane, at the dead king at our feet.
"We can build a new castle, Ivy. Bigger. Stronger."
He kisses me. It tastes of smoke and blood and forever.
"As long as I have the Queen," he says, "I have a home."
CHAPTER 26
THE CROWN OF SMOKE
POV: SILAS
The silence after a battle is heavier than the noise of the war itself.
It is a thick, suffocating blanket that settles over the Red Hook shipyard, smelling of cordite, burning rubber, and the copper tang of spilled life. The sirens in the distance are fading, or maybe I’ve just tuned them out.
I stand by the wreckage of the crane, watching the cleanup crew work.
Luca called them in five minutes after the last shot was fired. They are a specialized unit, ghosts in coveralls who dissolve problems with acid and bleach. They move efficiently, dragging bodies into unmarked vans, scrubbing asphalt, making the violence disappear until it is nothing but a bad memory.
I don't look at the bodies. I look at her.
Ivy is sitting on the bumper of the Bronco, staring at her hands. She hasn't spoken since she holstered the gun. She hasn't cried. She is vibrating with a frequency that I recognize. It’s the hum of shock, the brain trying to rewire itself to accommodate the impossible reality that she just took a human life.
And not just any life. She executed a king.
I walk over to her. My boots crunch on the gravel, loud in the quiet night.
"Ivy," I say softly.
She doesn't look up. "Is he gone?"
"They’re taking him now," I say. "There will be no body. No police report. Nikolai Sokolov is just... missing. A rumor."
She nods slowly. "Good."
I reach out and touch her cheek. Her skin is ice cold, despite the sweat drying on her hairline.
"We’re leaving," I say. "Luca can handle the rest."
"Where do we go?" she asks, finally looking up. Her eyes are glassy, dilated. "The cabin?"
"No," I say. "We’re done hiding in the woods. We won, Ivy. Winners don't sleep in shacks."
I open the passenger door and help her in. She moves stiffly, like a marionette with tangled strings. I buckle her seatbelt. Her hands rest in her lap, limp and stained with soot.
I walk around to the driver's seat. Luca intercepts me.
"Boss," he says, his voice low. "The accounts are unlocking. The algorithm worked. Nikolai's fail-safes crumbled the moment his biometric signal stopped. We have access to everything. The fifty-two million was just the start. We have his real estate holdings, his shipping lanes... everything."
"Liquidate the assets," I command, opening the door. "Anything we can't keep, burn it. I don't want his money. I want his power."
"And the Estate?"
"Leave it," I say without looking back. "It’s a tomb."
