The city had changed.
Where once it had been ruled by chaos, by Matilda’s iron grip and ruthless ambition, now it moved under the steady, calculating control of Elias Fontana. The Consortium had returned, not as a shattered remnant of its former self, but as something new—something stronger.
And at the center of it all was Elias and Martina.
It had been six months since the night at the docks, since Martina had put a bullet in her sister’s head and nearly died doing it. Elias still remembered the moment Vincent had called him, the cold, detached way he’d said, We’ve got a problem. He remembered the blood soaking through her dress, the way her breath had rattled weakly in her chest.
He had almost lost her.
But he hadn’t.
Martina had survived. And now, she stood beside him, not just as
