Page 195 of The Fire We Make

Hums of agreement sounded from the siblings and even the elders. The sentiment should have been reassuring but all it did was fill Joy with a sense of dread.

“Come on, Rose,” Ace called to her with his voice and hands which never dropped.

Silently, Joy stood and made her way over. Ace took her hand in his as soon as she was within reach.

In the office, Ace took the seat behind the desk, pulling Joy down onto his lap.

He leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his words low and just for her, masked by the bustle of everyone getting situated.

Joy nodded and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then took his face between both of her hands and planted a kiss on his lips.

Ace’s hand trailed up her back to cup the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss.

“Ewwww,” Von heckled, causing them to pull apart and glare at the interruption in unison.

“Grow up,” Ace grumbled, being met with a laugh from Von.

As if flipping a switch, Ace straightened his posture and dropped his smile. Just the change in his demeanor shifted the energy of the room and without a word, business commenced.

“Pops gave his blessing for Isaac. I’ve called a meeting with the Council next week for official approval.”

They all nodded in understanding, premature grief warring with lingering rage at the thought of what they were about to do.

“I don’t want any time wasted. As soon as we get the green light, I want his head.”

Joy rubbed Ace’s knuckles, practically feeling the rage radiating off of him.

Ace began giving his orders.

August would check card activity.

Remy would check cameras.

Von would interrogate what was left of his associates.

April would ask around with their friends.

And Ace and Jrue would prepare their presentation to the Council.

Joy watched Ace shift seamlessly into Boss mode. Watched as he led with absolute authority and his team followed without question. She remembered what that felt like.

To command.

To build.

To belong.

Joy looked around the room at the people she’d come to need. The people who'd accepted and welcomed her without asking anything of her in return.

She realized as much as she wanted to choose this — choose him — that would mean that everything she’d built, everything she’d sacrificed, and everything she survived would be for nothing.

Staying would mean walking away from not just Byron and the Cartel, not even just power, but from herself. Because who would she be without it?

Ace’s woman?

One of the Kings?

And if she disappointed them like she disappointed her father, what would she have left then?