The city lights blurred past as James sped through the streets, gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.
Emily sat in the passenger seat, her fingers still clenched into fists, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Her mind was a whirlwind, flashing between the gunfire at the gala, the chaos, and—
Vincent Blackwood.
The man who had orchestrated everything.
The man who had helped destroy her father.
The man who now wanted her dead.
She could still hear his voice—low, taunting, dripping with amusement.
"You should’ve stayed dead, Emily."
Her stomach twisted, fury curling inside her like a live wire.
No.
She wasn’t going to run anymore.
She had made her decision back at the gala—if Blackwood wanted a war, she was going to give him one.
James’s blue eyes flicked to her, sh
