The silence that filled the penthouse was a physical weight, heavier than the storm clouds currently bruising the horizon over Blackwood City. Elena didn't move. Her body felt frozen, carved from the same cold marble as the floor beneath her. Her heart, which had been beating in a frantic, post-release rhythm against her ribs, seemed to stop entirely, the blood turning to ice in her veins.
"Arthur Vance," she whispered, the name tasting like ancient dust and copper on her tongue.
She looked at Julian. He was still on his knees before her, his head bowed, his shoulders tense and shaking under the weight of his own confession. The man who had just conquered the city’s syndicates, the beast who had torn through the Vipers on the coast, looked completely broken. The sapphire of his eyes was
