The victory at the warehouses was short-lived. Caden’s network reported that Kelly had already begun regrouping, rallying new allies to her side. Despite the progress we had made, the war felt endless a cycle of strikes and counterstrikes, each more dangerous than the last.
I sat in Caden’s study, the map of Kelly’s known operations spread out before me. My hands trembled as I traced the lines that represented her power. Each line is connected to a memory of years of manipulation, betrayal, and pain.
“Staring at it won’t make it easier,” Caden said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.
I looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie discarded. The weight of the fight was etched into his features, but his eyes softened when they met mine.
