He brushes my hair back from my face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “You okay now?”
The question catches me off guard. Am I okay?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I think yeah, maybe. I’m on the way to being okay.”
And isn’t that the thing most of us can ask of ourselves. Working toward being okay with everything the fucking world throws at us.
Chapter 31
Lucien
My father’s empire is crumbling beneath my feet, and I’ve never felt more alive.
“It’s done,” Cassian says as we stride down the marble hallway, our footsteps echoing off the ornate walls of the Black Crown headquarters. “The vote was unanimous. Even Wallace backed you in the end.”
I adjust my cufflinks, the weight of my family signet ring heavy on my finger. “Of course he did. Wallace has always been a rat who jumps to the winning side when the ship starts sinking.”
We push through the massive oak doors into the cool night air. The grounds are empty. Just our cars and a few others belonging to council members still inside, probably drowning their shock in expensive whiskey.
“I still can’t believe you pulled it off,” Cassian mutters, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “A fucking coup against Vincent Devereux himself. Your own father.”
“Every king must fall,” I say, straightening my tie as we reach my Aston Martin. “Some harder than others.”
Cassian leans against the hood of my car, arms crossed over his broad chest. The streetlight catches the edge of his jawline,highlighting the calculating gleam in his eyes. “The old guard won’t take this lying down. Your father still has allies.”
“Let them come.” I unlock my car with a casual press of my key fob. “Anyone who stands with Vincent after what he did deserves whatever fucking fate they get.”
The events of the past week flash through my mind. Each image feeds the cold rage I’ve been nursing since that night, the rage that finally pushed me to call this emergency council meeting through Cassian’s father.
“Vincent crossed a line he couldn’t uncross,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. “He thought he was teaching me a lesson about control. Instead, he taught me exactly how far I’m willing to go to protect what’s mine.”
Cassian nods slowly. “Your father underestimated how much you care about her.”
“He underestimated everything about me.” I check my watch—it's almost midnight. Seraphina will be wondering where I am. “The board seats, the investments, the property transfers—it’s all been filed?”
“As of an hour ago, you control sixty-eight percent of Devereux Holdings.” Cassian’s mouth curves into a cold smile. “Your father has been effectively neutered.”
I run my hand through my hair, exhaustion suddenly hitting me. I’ve been planning this takeover for years, but the timeline had to be accelerated. Tonight was just the final move in a long game.
“Give your father my thanks,” I say, opening my car door. “And my apologies for the mess he’ll have to clean up.”
“He knows what he signed up for when he backed you,” Cassian replies with a shrug. “Besides, he’s been waiting for Vincent’s fall longer than either of us.”
I slide into the driver’s seat; the leather creaking beneath my weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Always.” Cassian steps back, hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of casual confidence. But I know better. Behind that relaxed stance is a mind just as calculating as mine. It’s why I trust him. “Give Seraphina my regards.”
“Oh, fuck off, Crowe.”
The house is mostly dark as I pull into the circular driveway, just a few lights glowing from the windows. It’s nearly one in the morning now. Seraphina’s probably asleep.
Because when you’re meeting about the head of the Sinners, the discretion of midnight is a necessity or whatever.
Destroying my father was always the endgame, but I didn’t expect it to feel this fucking good. Like finally scratching an itch I’ve had since I was old enough to understand what kind of man Vincent Devereux really is.
The front door clicks shut behind me as I drop my keys in the Baccarat crystal bowl on the entryway table. I loosen my tie, rolling my shoulders to release the tension.
“Seraphina?” I call out, my voice echoing through the marble foyer.
