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I glance at him, eyes narrowing."What the hell is so funny?"

He shakes his head, a grim edge to his voice."Relax, Cian.That was me."

A slow heat builds in my chest.My fingers tighten around the steering wheel."You?"

"I ordered it."His voice is casual, like this is nothing more than a simple business move."It was a test."

"A test," I echo, my tone unreadable.

"We need to be sure she can handle this before we agree to let her into the Syndicate," he continues."Aoife talks a big game, but I wanted to see how she’d respond.If she’d panic."

Something about this doesn’t sit right.Letting her into the Syndicate was never up for debate.

Ronan watches me for a reaction, his snide smile still lingering.I don’t trust him.Not fully.But I’m too close now.Everything I’ve worked for is within my reach.We need to get through tonight, then I’ll deal with Ronan.

I force my body to relax."And?What do you think?"

He chuckles."I think she’s not as soft as you are about her."

I keep my expression blank, but the words spark something deep in my gut.Ronan sees her as a weakness—my weakness.He thinks she’s just a spoiled, reckless princess playing at war.That she doesn’t have what it takes to stand in this world, to rule beside men like us.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Aoife’s stronger than he’ll ever be.More cunning, more relentless.She’s spent her life clawing for a seat at the table, and unlike him, she doesn’t just take power.She ensures no one ever takes it back.

He’s underestimating what she’s capable of.That’ll be his mistake to pay for.

The road stretches ahead, winding through the countryside.We pull off onto a narrow, overgrown path and drive another half mile before I kill the engine.

"We walk from here," I say, already moving toward the tree line."We can’t risk being seen."

Climbing out, we keep our movements quiet as we scan the area.The wind moves through the trees, rustling branches overhead.The scent of damp earth and old stone lingers in the air.

Ronan follows the crunch of our boots muffled by the soft earth beneath us.The castle looms in the distance, its jagged silhouette cutting into the night sky.It’s old, a relic of another time with stone walls weathered by centuries, the kind of place that has seen its fair share of blood.A fitting backdrop for what’s coming.

We reach the watchtower, the structure looming like a broken sentinel at the edge of the castle grounds.The stones are slick and cold beneath my fingertips, slick with age, with rot, with something older than memory.I press against the wall, scanning the darkness, feeling the weight of it press back.

This is where we wait.

The night breathes around us.The low moan of the wind through the crumbling stones, the hollow call of an owl somewhere beyond the trees.But underneath it, there’s a silence so deep it feels alive.Watching.Listening.

The air tightens.The ground shifts.

Something’s coming.

Something that won't be stopped.

And when it arrives, there will be no going back.

Eamon

The penthouse isquiet when I step inside.Too quiet.

I make my way toward the bedroom, drawn in by the soft sounds of movement.The door is cracked just enough for me to see inside.

And there she is, standing before the full-length mirror, her body encased in black.Tight pants hug her curves, and a short, fitted top reveals the toned lines of her stomach.Her red hair is pulled back, sleek, severe.

She’s beautiful.Deadly.Unstoppable.