The flames of Warehouse 17 lit up the night sky, sending thick black smoke curling into the heavens. The war was over. Silas and Martina were dead. Their empire—dismantled.
Matilda stood at the docks, the cool night breeze brushing against her face as she watched the inferno consume everything. The weight of victory settled on her shoulders, but it wasn’t a relief she felt.
It was something darker.
Something colder.
Behind her, Nico approached. “It’s done,” he said. “Their remaining men have either fled or sworn allegiance to you.”
Matilda exhaled, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife. “And the city?”
Nico hesitated. “It’s… afraid.”
Good.
Let them be.
Matilda turned, stepping away from the fire, her expression unreadable. “We’re not finished,” she said. “There are s
