“It means the information becomes public,” Rowan said. “Visible to every dynasty house. Every trade partner. Every syndicate with a vested interest in the corridor.”
A sick, cold clarity bled through me.
By nightfall, I wouldn’t just be a daughter in the Adams line.
I’d be a strategic threat.
A singular, vulnerable point of power with a dynasty contract pinned to her back—and no ring on her finger to protect it.
“You should prepare for contact,” Corvin said. “Suitors. Proposals. Surveillance. Protection requests. Some will come bearing roses.”
He paused.
“Others will come armed.”
“Can we block it?” The words came out quickly, rushed. I spoke in a way I wasn’t trained too. “Can we… hide the ownership, keep it under Adams.”
Corvin tilted his head, just enough for me to know he was considering it. “There is a clause we could lean on. It would give you ten months.”
Ten months.
It was better than nothing.
Chapter Eleven
BASTION
The first man whimpered when I stepped over him. The second didn’t move at all.
Both were still breathing—barely. Slumped at the edge of the alley behind the Black Vault’s freight corridor. Their mistake hadn’t been coming for the port schedule.
It was thinking I wouldn’t answer the alert myself.
I lit a cigarette with blood running down my knuckles, shielding the flame from the wind with my hand. Inhaled deep
My phone vibrated again.
Then again.
Emergencies. Delays. Port fallout. Eastside retaliation threats. Rome had been calling for thirty minutes, Luca’s updates hadn’t come through, and two more district syndicates were trying to muscle into tonight’s shipping manifest. A week ago I would’ve cared.
But now?
Now I just needed one thing.
I dragged the phone out of my coat pocket, and tapped the app.
Not messages or port security feeds.
Hers.
The mirror system came online immediately. Luca and I had it linked to our homescreens—because pretending we wouldn’t use it was the real delusion.
We didn’t track her out of boredom.
We tracked her because every fucking heir in the empire had her name on their lips now. Every second, a new deal was being drafted. Every hour, another family updated their merger clauses to accommodate her dowry.
There were no boundaries anymore. No privacy. Not for her. Not when the world had shifted on the day she turned twenty-one. So no, she didn’t get privacy.
