"We're going to die if we do this."
Marcus stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, face grim. Around him sat fifteen people—the last of three families that once controlled everything.
Celeste looked at each face. Some young. Some are old. All scared. All tired.
"Maybe," she said quietly. "But we die anyway if we don’t try."
"She’s right," Damien added, standing beside her. His shoulder was still bandaged from the last fight. "Rylan won’t stop. Not until we’re all dead or under his control."
"So what’s your plan?" Helena asked. She used to run Belmont security. "Storm the estate with fifteen people against his army?"
"Not just fifteen," Celeste replied. "More are coming."
"How many more?"
"Enough."
It was a lie. Sort of. They had maybe thirty people total. Rylan had over a hu
