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I grit my teeth."She'll come through."

Ronan scoffs."You’re sure about that?"

He doesn’t trust her.He never has.Truth be told, I don’t know if he’s wrong.

Aoife’s been at war with Ruairi since their parents died.Ruairi’s been a damn fool.He’s spent years clinging to a title he doesn’t deserve, playing the noble leader while his empire rots from the inside.He thinks loyalty is enough to keep a Syndicate strong.That men follow out of respect rather than fear.

But he doesn’t understand the truth.Power isn’t inherited—it’s taken.And if you’re too weak to seize it, you don’t deserve to rule.

Ruairi should’ve known better.He should’ve seen the asset standing right in front of him.Aoife isn’t just sharp.She’s lethal.She understands how this world works better than Ruairi ever could.And yet, he shoved her aside.Ignored her.Kept her caged while he played the righteous heir.

Pathetic.

Ruairi doesn’t deserve what he has.He never did.

And that’s why I’ve spent months tightening the noose around his throat.Every deal I’ve made, every lie I’ve spun, every so-called ally I’ve flipped, every move has been leading to this.I played the long game, let Ruairi think he was in control, let Eamon believe he was untouchable.

And now?They’re both as good as dead.

That leaves Aoife exactly where I need her.She thinks she’s in control.Thinks she’s playing her own game.She isn’t.

I let her fight, let her sharpen her edges against the men who underestimated her.I allowed her to think she was carving her own path, when really, I’ve been the one guiding her the entire time, feeding her just enough power to make her hungry for more.I let her think this was about respect, about proving herself worthy.But power isn’t given, and it sure as hell isn’t earned.

It’s stolen.Taken with blood and fire.

Ruairi was too weak to see it.Eamon is too blinded by lust to care.

But me?I know exactly how this ends.Because I designed it.

For now, Aoife has a place in my Syndicate.But if the day ever comes when she forgets who put her here, when she stops being useful, she’s as expendable as the rest of them.I’ll slit her throat just as easily as I’d slit her brother’s.

Because in the end, there’s only one thing that matters.

Me.

I don’t let doubt take root."She will."

Ronan doesn’t look convinced.His hand lingers near his gun, fingers twitching.He’s restless.Dangerous.

The night stretches, suffocating, endless.Finally, two gunshots split the air.

Relief crashes through me like a drug and I push off the wall."That’s the signal.Let’s go."

We move quickly, cutting through the darkness toward a back entrance that would have once been used for staff back when this place was more than just a relic of power and blood.Adrenaline licks at my veins, sharpening my senses.The castle looms ahead, its stone walls swallowing the moonlight.

No one sees us.No one stops us.Just as planned.

When we get there, the old wood door opens, and Aoife stands there.She’s steady.Too steady.Something in her stance doesn’t scream victory.It screams calculation.But I ignore the feeling.Instead, I step forward, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into me.

"It’s done?"My voice is quiet, meant only for her.

She nods, letting me hold her.For a breath.A second.Before she stiffens.Her green eyes look up past me.I follow her gaze, turning slightly.She’s staring at the man behind me.

Her expression tightens."Ronan?"Her voice isn’t just surprised.It’s wary.

She steps back, putting space between us and my stomach knots."You didn’t tell me you were working together."

My throat goes dry."Aoife, I?—"