Page 151 of Royal Bargain

“Don’t be so dramatic. She knew I needed legitimacy. You needed a win. We both got what we wanted. Hell, thanks to you Brannagans, I’ve got the unions, the working-class vote, the muscle to keep the streets clean. It’s a good look for a man like me.”

I stare at the floor, bile rising in my throat. He used us.

No—she used us. But he knew. He knew the whole time.

“You think she’s going to let you run the city?” I ask, voice tight. “You think once you’re in the governor’s seat, you’ll be in charge?”

Burns gives a soft laugh.

“I think I’ll be where I belong. And if you’re smart, Liam, you’ll get on her side too—before it’s too late.”

My hand clenches so hard around the phone I nearly crush it. My jaw aches from how hard I’m grinding my teeth.

“Go to hell,” I say and hang up.

For a second, I just stand there. Breathing.

Then it hits me.

We’re fucked.

Burns is winning. The polls have been in his favor for weeks. Miranda put him there. We put him there. We gave him our backing, our networks, our power base.

We handed him the damn crown. And behind it—Miranda's hands. She didn’t need to run for office. She built the office herself. She’s already on the throne.

I hang up and lower the phone slowly. For a moment, I just breathe. But it doesn’t help.

My chest feels too tight. My stomach turns. My ears are ringing with the echo of Burns’s voice, smug and sure, like he’s already won.

We’ve been helping her win.

We made her kingmaker. All of us. Rory, Kellan, me—we handed Burns the legitimacy he needed, the money, theconnections, the Brannagan name. And all along, Miranda was holding the strings.

She didn’t want the spotlight. She wanted the throne behind the throne.

I swallow hard and push off the wall, heading back into the main room. The air feels heavier now. Like the smoke and blood from the canning factory followed us here and won’t let go.

Ana’s curled up on the couch, tucked under a threadbare blanket. Her foot’s elevated, propped on a throw pillow that’s stained through with blood. Her face is pale. Not the soft, peachy kind of pale that makes her freckles pop, but gray. Her eyes flutter open as I walk in, but she doesn’t say anything.

Anatoly’s sitting nearby, elbows on his knees, watching me closely.

“Burns knew,” I say, my voice rough. “He’s been working with her since the beginning.”

Anatoly doesn't react much, just exhales, slowly and tiredly.

“Of course.”

That stings. I blink at him. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m not.” He leans back in the chair, looking older than I’ve ever seen him. “She’s been laying this groundwork for years. Burns was always ambitious, but never smart enough to win on his own. Miranda gave him what he wanted—and made sure he thought it was his idea.”

I look at Ana again. She’s watching us, trying to stay alert, but I can see how much it’s costing her.

“He said we should get on her side,” I mutter. “Before it’s too late.”

Anatoly lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s always been her trick. Make you think you still have a choice.”

“Do you think she can be stopped?”