Chapter 27

The Crown of Ash

The Cross estate was eerily quiet as dawn broke on the horizon. Not a sound. Not even a whisper.

Even the birds seemed to be holding their breath.

Inside the council chamber, the table was no longer cold steel and shadow. It was now ruled by flame.

I sat at the head. Not as Marco. Not as Moretti. I was Durate. My mother’s name. A truth born from betrayal.

The same blood that once flowed in silence now pulsed at the center of every whispered order, every signed contract, every new alliance.

“Your vote is final?” Vera asked from across the table.

I didn’t hesitate. Effective immediately. Marco’s holdings are to be dissolved. All contracts reassigned to the Durate banner.

The council members exchanged tense glances.

“Your enemies will retaliate,” one of them muttered.

I raised a single brow. Let them try.

Damian stood to my right, arms crossed, while Nico was to my left, quiet but always vigilant.

Vera nodded, though I noticed her mouth twitch slightly.

“Your mother would’ve scorched the entire region to get this far.”

I’m not my mother, I thought. I’m the one who’s rebuilding what she broke.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

“Meeting adjourned.”

Outside, the estate buzzed with activity. Guards rotated in shifts, and surveillance systems blinked to life. New tech, new weapons, and new alliances were forming behind closed doors.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the shadow in my mind. Sebastian. I hadn’t killed him, and I didn’t regret it. But I hadn’t forgiven him either.

He was under my watch,kept in a private, secure location, receiving medical treatment, guarded by men who answered only to me.

A reminder that mercy wasn’t a sign of weakness.

Still…something about the silence since that night felt off.

Too still.

That afternoon, Vera walked into my office with a sealed folder.

I glanced up from my desk. “What’s this?”

“We traced the transmission that aired your blood rule duel,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes. We thought we had control over the broadcast channels.

“We did. But a secondary signal piggybacked on the stream. It sent the feed to a closed network.”

“To who?”

Vera slid the folder across the desk. I opened it and froze.

Photos. A man in a black suit always lurking in the background. Never speaking.

He was tall and broad, his face always cloaked in shadow. It was like he belonged to the dark.

“Who is he?”

“Unknown. But we’ve tracked him through three countries over the past six months. He shows up whenever Cross operations suffer sabotage or disappearances. Including Marsalite, Istanbul, and…”

“Vienna,” I whispered.

Vera nodded. “He was seen leaving the opera house the day after Sebastian vanished.”

My fingers tapped the folder. He’s not one of ours.

“No. He’s not CIA, FSB, or any of the unknown families.”

“So what is he then?”

Vera hesitated. “A ghost.”

That night, I sat alone in my quarters, reading the last journal of my mother, Marina Durate.

I’d recovered it weeks ago, but I’d only decoded it yesterday.

“I don’t fear death; I fear what becomes of my child if the truth dies with me.

Sebastian was never a monster. But monsters will come if no one stops Elena.

If Claire ever reads this, I pray she knows that blood isn’t destiny. It’s permission to be more.”

Her words hit me hard, almost like scripture. I closed the journal and set it beside me.

Then I stepped onto the balcony and paused.

Across the courtyard, at the edge of the woods, a man stood beneath the footlights.

Not moving. Not speaking. Just watching.

I quickly reached for the radio at my waist. “Security, west perimeter, we have…”

But the man was gone. Vanished like mist.

Within minutes, alarms blared. Guards swept the grounds. Nothing. Not a trace.

Damian found me near the garden steps, fury flashing in my eyes.

“You saw him?”

I nodded.

“Same face from the Vienna footage.?”

I hesitated. I couldn’t see clearly. But the posture…yes.

He was inside the perimeter. He wanted me to know. I whispered.

Damian’s jaw clenched. “No one breaches the estate. Not even ghosts.”

In the war room, Nico pulled up satellite footage.

“Whoever he is, he disabled three drones and jammed thermal sensors. He knew our system inside out.”

“Inside job?” Damian asked.

“No,” Vera said flatly. “This is someone above what we’re used to.”

I stared at the paused image.

The shadow figure. Frozen mid-step. Perfectly poised. Almost graceful.

This isn’t over. I said. He’s watching us. Waiting.

Vera folded her arms. “For what?”

I turned. For me to make the next move.

The next morning, a package arrived. Unmarked.

Delivered by a drone that disappeared into the mountains before we could trace it.

Inside. A single chess piece. The queen.

And a note handwritten in ink that smelled faintly of rose and blood.

“The king is never your greatest enemy. It’s the piece you never suspect until the board burns. E.”

I stared at the letter. Then burned it. Damian watched the flames devour it in silence.

“We need to find him,” he said.

No, we wait. “Wait?”

My voice went colder. Certain.

We’re not ready for this man. Not yet. He’s testing us, looking for a weakness.

I stared at the chess piece in my hand.

Let him watch.

In the shadows of Prague, deep beneath an old cathedral, a man took off his gloves and set a matching king piece on a stone altar.

Around him, a dozen cloaked figures bowed their heads. One of them spoke up.

“Is she the right one?”

His voice was smooth yet firm, like silk over steel.

“She passed the first test. The fire.”

“And what about the second?”

“She speared the devil. That makes her dangerous.”

There was a brief pause.

“Should we get rid of her then?”

He smiled, a sly grin.

“No.”

His hand closed around the king piece.

“We give her what she’s always wanted.”

I found myself standing in front of Maria Durate’s portrait. I gazed into my mother’s painted eyes for what felt like forever before whispering,

The devils are multiplying.

Then I turned away, ready to prepare for war.