The scent of gunpowder and blood filled the air.
Isla Calloway stood motionless, gun still raised, staring at the lifeless body of the man who had once ruled her world.
Her father.
The Kingmaker.
The shot had been clean, precise.
A single bullet straight between the eyes.
She expected to feel… something.
Relief.
Satisfaction.
Regret.
Instead?
She felt nothing.
Because there was no room for grief when there was still a war to win.
Lucas Reyes let out a sharp, pained breath beside her.
His face was pale, his side soaked in red, but his green eyes were locked onto her.
"You did it," he murmured.
Isla let out a slow breath, her pulse finally steadying.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I did."
But it wasn’t over.
Not yet.
Because Catherine Calloway had escaped.
And Isla knew—her
