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L EONIE FISTS HER GOWN IN HER HAND AND ELEGANTLY STEPS OVER the lip of the vault, her head held high. She spares half a glance at the crew waiting to collect her fortune before she exits the dungeon, her dress a glittering reminder of the diamonds she’s lost.

I climb out after her. Tom catches my hand, steadying me over the threshold.

“Do we need someone to watch her?” he asks, nodding up the stairs to my grandmother’s exit. “Will she send someone down here to stop us?”

I shake my head. “She knows how easily I could destroy her,” I reply. I fold the envelope containing the Knives list back into my inner suit pocket. “Besides, I think she doesn’t want to ruin me. Not really.”

“Still, I wouldn’t linger. Not unless you want Hammond or Elwood sniffing around,” Dash says. He walks past me and heads for the stairs. “Find me in the party when you’re ready to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“Sorry about the nose, Mr. Owens,” Grace says chipperly.

My father grunts in reply as he leaves. It’s mildly existentially concerning to me that he is willing to simply trust me to give him the cuff links when my winnings and my crew are safe.

We were on the same side here today. Whether we will be in the future…

I cannot say. But for tonight, we trust each other.

I think a family therapist would call that progress or something.

When he’s gone, my crew breaks out into smiles.

Everyone’s expression says the same thing.

We fucking did it. Deonte and Kevin exchange a look and then race inside the vault.

Grace elegantly leaps over the vault lip.

Tom peers inside, his eyes wide. Even Abigail hurries in, wanting to see exactly what we’ve earned.

I stand back proudly. They deserve this. Every one of them contributed to this success. I couldn’t have done it without them. But watching them, I can’t help the feeling that something is missing. Someone.

Jackson was part of this, too. I’m itching to leave this dungeon and find him, but I can’t abandon my crew.

Instead, I take out my phone and send Jackson a text, asking if we can talk before he leaves Volenvell.

I wait for a moment, staring at my screen, but no reply comes.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I turn back to my crew.

It’s time to finish the last phase of the heist.

“Let’s load up the gold and the diamonds and get the cakes back through the castle before the party is over,” I say. “We don’t need anyone in my family to see uneaten cakes after the party and get suspicious. My dad is right. Leonie isn’t a problem anymore. But my aunt and uncle remain headaches.”

Like the well-oiled machinery we’ve become, the crew gets to work instantly. We form a line, passing treasures out of the vault to Deonte and Abigail, who neatly hide them beneath and inside Deonte’s many cleverly deconstructed cakes.

When everything we can secret away and carry is loaded inside the mille-feuilles, Kevin leaves the dungeon to serve as a lookout.

Deonte and Tom haul one of the carts up the stairs very carefully when they get the signal the courtyard is clear.

A moment later, Tom returns, since only Deonte can be seen wheeling cake through the castle.

“We should go,” Abigail says, her eyes on her watch.

I nod. “Grace—”

“I’ll guard the rest of the goods with Tom while we wait for Deonte to return,” she says, preempting me efficiently.

There are four large wheeling carts of cakes stuffed with riches remaining outside the vault. One by one, Deonte will smuggle them out of the castle right under my family’s noses while they ring in the new year.

Abigail and I return to the party, not wanting anyone to take note of our absence.

I look for Jackson in the still-celebrating crowd, but he’s gone.

It’s unsurprising, really. He came here to warn me, not to celebrate the New Year with my family.

While my crew completes our heist, I sing happy birthday to my grandmother.

I watch her blow out the candles on her cake—the twin of Deonte’s, minus the million-dollar filling—I toast with champagne and sing “Auld Lang Syne” with the other Americans.

When Tom raises his glass to me across the room, I know the job is done.

Only one final piece left.

I catch my sister’s eye in the singing crowd. Wordlessly, we step out of the party together, making our way through the dining room on opposite sides. We head for the castle entrance, where we find Otto Karlson at his desk in his office. He sits half in the dark.

I steady my breathing, reminding myself I’m in control as my heels click loudly on the polished hardwood.

Otto looks up when I drop the envelope on his desk.

He reaches for it, confirming the contents quickly. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he betrays no emotion as he slides the envelope into his jacket. His eyes move from me to Abigail.

“I offered one membership in the Knives. Yet there are two of you,” he comments.

It’s not like I totally expected a thank-you from someone as sinister as Otto, but still, the lack of appreciation is frankly rude.

“I’ll do the math for you, Otto,” I say. “ Neither of us is joining the Knives.”

Despite my heart hammering in my chest, I straighten my spine proudly. No, defiantly . When I put together the contents of the list Leonie stole with the courage Jackson showed in confronting me, I knew what I needed to do. The ultimate score—a world of our own.

Otto frowns. “I recall making my terms clear,” he declares. “You would enter your grandmother’s vault. You would join the Knives.”

“We’re negotiating,” I shoot back. “Keep up.”

The chairman’s eyes flash. He does not, however, interrupt me.

“I only want the name of the person who killed my grandfather,” I continue carefully. “Then I’d like to negotiate a truce.”

Otto raises an eyebrow. I’d like to think he’s curious, but more likely he’s doubtful.

“Leonie, isolated and without allies, couldn’t hope to leverage the list against you.

You’re no longer dealing with just Leonie,” I inform him.

“This information and what it means to you is in the possession of the Owens family. Me, my father, my sister, my grandmother. We don’t fear your club.

You could come after one of us, but you wouldn’t be able to control all of us, not without us exposing the Knives.

Granted you don’t move against any of my crew or my family, you’ll be safe from us, too. ”

“Safe?” he repeats incredulously.

Abigail leans onto the edge of his desk. “Should we feel threatened by you or your club, I’ve arranged some highlights from your cute little list to be fed out to select media and quite a few private citizens I believe would find such information very interesting.”

He doesn’t react, which tells me he’s taking Abigail’s threat seriously. He meets her gaze, and I know what he’s seeing. How impressive and imposing my sister is.

“Naturally, such a truce would have to go both ways,” Otto says, his tone professional.

“Should we find you making use of any of this information in any way… Well.” His eyes return to me.

“I think you and I both can agree that if you’re going down, it’s best to take as many people with you on the way. ”

“Naturally,” I repeat, fighting the goose bumps his threats raise on my arms. “I will leave this room with the name of my grandfather’s killer and without connection to the Knives.

If you seek revenge on Leonie for any of her actions, or if you or the Club coerce me or my crew, I’ll take you down with us. ”

Neither of us moves. He studies me. I study him. I know what he sees when he looks at me, too.

“You may only have one, Olivia,” he finally counters. “The name you seek, or a truce.”

I don’t hesitate. “The truce,” I reply.

I won’t damn my grandmother in my quest for revenge. She saved me. I’ll do the same.

Otto scrutinizes me, not, I presume, having expected such instant selflessness from this Owens heiress. Which is fair. Recognizing a deal concluded, however, he stands. “From this moment on, then,” he says. He holds his hand out to me. “A truce.”

I clasp his palm in a firm shake, my gaze never leaving him.

He holds on to me tight. “Remember, Olivia, should you change your mind about membership, you know where to find me.” With his free hand, he pulls up my sleeve to expose my cuff links. “We’re always nearby.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget.” I drop his hand.

He grins. Quickly, almost disinterestedly, he puts away the papers left out on his desk. He caps a pen. Turns off the desk lamp. We watch as he heads for the door.

“Feel free to give my resignation to your grandmother,” Otto says from the shadows. “It seems a new job opportunity has presented itself. One I couldn’t possibly pass up.”

Otto disappears into the castle. I have a hunch it won’t be the last I’ll see of him. Still, hopefully this stalemate will buy me enough time to find a path toward the Knives’ destruction.

I may have saved my father and granted my grandmother a second chance. But I’m still Olivia Owens. I still fucking love revenge. And someone in the Knives has my grandfather’s blood on their hands. They better build their defenses now.

Because I will take everything from them.

“You didn’t tell me the whole story when you asked for my help,” Abigail says at my side.

The accusation draws me out of my ruminations on revenge. Except… Abigail doesn’t sound accusatory. I look to my sister, uncomprehending. She returns my gaze, wary, like usual. Shyly admiring, which is new.

“Otto said he made his terms clear,” she explains. “You were going to join them,” she says, “without telling us. Because you thought it would be the only way to keep us safe.”

I fall silent now. Abigail watches me with my own eyes reflected.

“When I met you, I didn’t know if I even wanted a sister,” she goes on. “Now I know.”

Tears leap to my eyes. Abigail looks away, and I notice her blinking furiously, too. No way do I dare to hug her. Neither one of us would hold it together.

“Thanks for your help,” I say instead. “I know you know this, but I guess it’s important I say it out loud or whatever. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.”

Abigail rolls her dewy eyes, her cheeks going pink. “Yeah, well, you came up with a good plan, I guess .”

“Compliments aren’t our thing, are they?”

“I think we get it from our dad.”

“Definitely,” I agree.

She smiles as she heads back into the celebration. I turn, walking outside the front doors and into the snowy driveway.