Page 184 of The Silent War

My chest ached.

“Damius tomorrow,” Bastion said, breaking the quiet.

“After the merger is announced, we lock her down,” I answered.

“She won’t like it,” he muttered, his thumb brushing her skin.

“She’ll like it when we make her,” I said evenly, because there was no other option.

I leaned back against the headboard, watching smoke from Bastion’s cigarette, as his hand memorized her body by touch alone.

“We have to prep the city for when we’re gone,” I said.

Bastion nodded. “Vince and Nik will step in.”

“They’ll hold it,” I agreed, even as my jaw flexed. They’d hold it because they had no other choice.

“Even Kingston if we have to,” I added, my hand drifting down to stroke her hip. She shifted in her sleep.

“Yacht,” Bastion exhaled. “After the lock-in. For a few weeks.”

I smirked faintly. “Topical island. Bikinis.”

“Fucking her in every room we designed for her.”

My mouth twisted into something dark. “Staff who know when to disappear.”

“Then we take her home,” Bastion added, his voice lower now.

“She adapts to being a Crow Dynasty wife. Not an Adams daughter.”

He hummed. “Her representing us instead of them.”

The words settled heavy in the quiet. I glanced down at her again—still curled between us, cheek pressed into the pillow. She looked breakable, soft, nothing like the weapon we were planning to place in dynasty halls.

The city wouldn’t know what to do with her once she carried our crest. They’d see her as porcelain, too fragile to bear the weight. They’d never understand the truth: she’d survived enough to carry two dynasties on her back.

I lit another cigarette and took a long drag before speaking. “We’ve put business off all morning.”

Bastion gave a rough nod. “Yeah. We can’t any longer.”

“The new port,” I said, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “West Villain. Hollis crews think they’ve carved a line through it. They’re testing us, inch by inch.”

“They won’t live long enough to make it a mile,” Bastion muttered.

I tipped ash into the tray on the nightstand. “And the syndicate cut. The Rourkes are pressing harder. They think Vince stepping back left a gap. They’re wrong.”

“They’ll learn,” Bastion said simply. He glanced down at her, his fingers still moving across her bare back. “But not tonight. We deal with it when she wakes.”

I inhaled again. “Agreed.”

“Later, we walk through it,” His eyes cut to mine over her shoulder. A look that wasn’t about ports or syndicates.

I held his stare, knowing exactly what he meant. The Codex. Crow Dynasty law. The last set of chains we had to snap before we put her in our name.

I gave a nod. “Later.”

We sat there in silence, smoke hanging heavy in the air, the hum of the city like a low current beneath it. Her breathing steadied between us, the sound so soft it made something in my chest ache.