The alley was silent except for the distant hum of the city and the occasional shuffle of boots on pavement. The chaos had subsided almost as quickly as it had started, the echoes of gunfire now replaced by the sound of heavy breathing and the clink of discarded weapons. Dean’s empire was crumbling, his men either disarmed or scattered, and Matilda stood at the center of it all like the queen reclaiming her throne. But there was no celebration, no victorious cheers—just the weight of what had been done, and the knowledge that the war was far from over.
Lana’s heart hammered in her chest as she kept her g*n trained on Dean. The man who had controlled everything—the power, the people, the systems—was no longer in charge. But in the quiet aftermath, there was no sense of relief. There was on
