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I SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY MAKING THE FINAL PREPARATIONS FOR THE plan. Mastermind Olivia. Not brokenhearted Olivia.

Still, I can’t help checking my phone every twenty minutes. Not for heist logistics or potential emergencies. For texts from my boy— ex-boyfriend .

There’s nothing. He doesn’t text or call. He’s just… gone.

Through my crew, I learn he grabbed his things and left without saying goodbye to anyone. Castle staff have already cleaned his room, erased his presence. If I secretly wished Jackson would send me one final text, well, it’s irrelevant to tonight’s success. I’ll survive.

My friends have questions. While they are a formidable heist crew, they are also teenagers. My breakup with Jackson is the stuff of the best group chat gossip.

I avoid them. The less they know, the better it is for the heist, for their own safety. Let everyone believe coldhearted Olivia outgrew her loving, perfect boyfriend. Let them whisper about self-sabotage and selfishness. Whatever.

Running and re-running tonight’s plan in my head is my escape from my miserable heart. Everything needs to go exactly right or not only will we fail in our goal, but the Knives will bring unimaginable vengeance down on us.

I focus on the stakes, trying to terrify myself, while I straighten my hair. I want it sharp. Razor blades of blond hanging down my shoulders.

I can’t help remembering the last time I dressed in formal wear to start my heist. I was brokenhearted before the wedding job, too.

Then, I believed Jackson had betrayed me.

Now, I’ve betrayed him. Does it matter? The result is the same.

I’m entering this alone. I’ve swapped the employee room of my retail job for a castle, but really, I’m the same angry and hurting girl, desperate to carve her mark into the world that didn’t want her.

I fasten the crossed-dagger cuff links to my sleeves beneath my tailored black suit. I’ll survive, no matter what, I tell myself. I’m dressed in armor, equipped with knives, surrounded by the army of my crew.

It’s time to claim what’s mine.

Quickly, I walk down the hallways to Kevin and Deonte’s room, steady in my black heels. I open the door without knocking, finding only Deonte inside.

“Everything in order?” I ask, my tone confident.

Deonte is dressed in a crisp but nondescript black suit. His job as baker is complete for the day. He’ll attend the party, but he won’t be questioned when he heads to the kitchens to retrieve his cakes.

“Kevin’s errand is taking a little longer than he thought, but he says he’s almost done,” Deonte replies. “He’s confident he’ll arrive with the asset in time.”

I nod, pleased. “And you?”

“Cakes are ready to go. I’ll move into position at the signal.” His reply is stiff but professional.

“Good. Good.” I turn to go, on to the next order on my checklist.

“Olivia?”

I know what he’s going to say. I want to leave the room, leave his questions. But I owe Deonte more than that. I turn back to face him. “It’s better this way,” I tell him. “He wouldn’t have liked this plan, and you know it.”

Deonte’s eyes are uncompromising. “You should have explained it to him. Given him the choice.”

I don’t wilt under his judgment. Loyalty doesn’t mean agreeing with every choice I make. It means this—voicing opinions and giving me the chance to defend myself. “There are no choices in love,” I tell him softly. “You’ll learn that sooner or later.”

“He’s his own person,” Deonte protests. “You can’t move him around on your board like your—” He stops himself.

“Like my pawn?” I finish with a bitter laugh. Jackson’s code name.

No, Jackson isn’t my pawn. Not anymore. Not my anything. I can’t say that out loud, though. If I cry, I’ll wreck my mascara.

“You’re here to help your family,” I say instead. “If anything comes up tonight, you’ll protect Abigail. Your moves are decided for you by the people you love. Same as his. Same as mine. We’re all chess pieces.”

I stand straight under his scrutiny, waiting.

Deonte doesn’t reply. He knows I’m right. Or right enough.

“I’ll see you tonight, Rook.” I leave, crossing the hall to Tom’s room.

I don’t even have to knock. Tom opens his door when he hears my footsteps.

His tux is designer, elegant and masculine at once.

His lithe frame is sharpened into straight lines of black and white, making him look somehow older.

He’s handsome, of course. Handsome doesn’t capture him, though.

He’s charm and confidence and cunning wrapped with a silk bow tie.

“Don’t you look stunning?” he says, his gaze dark.

“My suit is better,” I lie.

He examines me, his eyes lingering on the perfect cut of my lapel. “If I’m to be second in anything, I’ll permit it when it’s you,” he says. He holds his arm out to me. “Ready?”

I take his elbow in my hand, feeling like the living echo of the last time we walked into a party together. He was playing my date before. Tonight? I don’t know what he’s playing.

Together, we descend the grand staircase, the sounds of the party growing louder.

“You know,” I say on the steps, “just because he’s gone doesn’t mean anything has changed.” It feels important to remind Tom. I meant everything I said to him in Norway.

His eyes slice to mine. “Then why are you on my arm tonight?”

“My family needs to think I’m playing their game by their rules. Which means you.”

Tom’s expression shifts, something coyly dangerous in his lips. “Exactly. You’ll keep needing me,” he says. “I’ll keep being here. You know how easy it is to live a lie so fully it becomes true.”

The sudden jab at my breakup startles me. I lose my footing on the stairs and stumble.

Tom catches me, his grip firm as he tugs me toward him. His arm circles my waist, holding me close. “Let me be your lie, Olivia.” His eyes sparkle in the chandelier light.

My battered and bruised heart thuds in my chest. I can’t feel anything. Not yet.

But maybe someday? Tom would be so easy to fall for. He could fit into my life, Knives and all.

He reads the uncertainty on my face—his victory. Not right now. Not tonight. But strategies are more than single battles.

Releasing me, he smirks.

We walk forward, toward the sounds of the party. Not just a battle tonight, either. A war.