The Bastard's Blade

Chapter 5

You have a soft heart, Vera," Charlotte said, her voice a low vibration that made the hair on my arms stand up. "You had the chance to finish it in that hallway. Instead, you gave him a broken nose and a head start."

‎"I gave him a message," I replied, my voice raspy from the smoke. "Death is too quick for a man who spent twenty years pretending I didn't exist. I want him to watch his empire crumble first. I want him to feel the 'shadow' outstripping him."

‎Charlotte finally turned, her eyes scanning the blood on my collar with a clinical, almost predatory interest. She reached out, her gloved fingers tilting my chin up. "Spoken like a true Salvatore. But remember: in this world, a wounded animal is more dangerous than a dead one. Smart Vane still has his 'clenched fists,' and now they have a target."

‎She tapped the glass partition, and the driver took a sharp turn into the industrial district, far from the polished marble of the heights. We pulled into a nondescript warehouse—the nerve center of her intelligence web.

‎As the heavy steel doors groaned shut behind us, Charlotte stepped out of the car, her heels clicking like a countdown on the concrete. "You proved you can bleed him, Vera. Now, prove you can replace him."

‎She led me to a massive surveillance area. Screens flickered with chaotic feeds from the Lounge: police cordons, panicked socialites, and a grainy shot of my father being shoved into an armored SUV by his remaining loyalists.

‎"He’s retreating to 'The Vault,'" Charlotte whispered, pointing to a heavily fortified penthouse on the city’s edge. "He’ll go to ground, burn his files, and call in every favor he’s owed. We have six hours before he vanishes into the wind."

‎She handed me a tactical earpiece and a new set of keys—not to a sedan, but to a high-powered motorcycle parked in the corner.

‎"He thinks I'm the one coming for him," Charlotte smiled, a cold, sharp expression that didn't reach her eyes. "He’s bracing for a siege. He isn't expecting a ghost. Go to his safe house. Use the codes you stole from the armory transport. Enter as a daughter seeking 'asylum,' and leave as the woman who took his crown."

‎The weight of the silver revolver in my hand felt different now. It wasn't a burden; it was a key.

‎"And if he realizes it's a trap before I get through the door?" I asked.

‎Charlotte leaned in, her velvet-over-blade voice chilling my soul. "Then you'll find out if you really have his talent for hiding fear—or if you're just another shadow meant to be stepped on."

‎I swung my leg over the bike, the engine roaring to life, echoing the thunder outside. I wasn't playing a double-sided blade anymore. I was the blade.