45

45
VIVIENNE

I slammed the study door so hard it rattled against the frame,

“Are you insane?”

Lucian sat behind the wide oak desk, jacket thrown across the chair, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms. He didn’t flinch at my arrival. He never did.

“You barge in like a storm, tigress,” he murmured. “Say what you’ve come to say.”

“You’ve ruined us!” I spat. The words left me like a knife.

He didn’t even look up right away. Just flipped a page in one of his ledgers, calm as the sea before a storm. His indifference was gasoline to the fire already raging in me.

I marched across the room.“Do you even know what you’ve done? Do you even care? The free clinics are shuttered. The docks are chaos. Shipments won’t come through because no one trusts us anymore. Families are burying their dead because they couldn’t get their medicine in time. And every last one of them knows who to blame.”

His eyes lifted at that.“The Riveras.”

“No!” I snapped, so loud it echoed. “They blame us. They blame the Demarcos and Morettis You didn’t cripple the Riveras, Lucian—you crippled this city. People spit on our name now. Do you know what I’ve heard whispered in the alleys, in the market squares?” My voice shook with fury. “Tyrants. That’s what they call us. Tyrants who burn their own people alive.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was just another piece on his chessboard.

“And what would you have had me do? Leave the Riveras’ supplies untouched? Let them profit from clinics they funded only to bleed the people dry later?”

My fists curled. “You didn’t even listen! Those crates weren’t Rivera’s! I showed you the crates,Leo even told you—they were contracted to neutral hands. Free clinics. Supplies from outside the city, not tied to any family. You destroyed what little good we had left.”

His voice was lo. “Collateral. War doesn’t care about lines on paper.”

“Don’t you dare call this war,” I hissed. “This was arrogance. You wanted to make a point, and you didn’t care who burned with it. You’ve always needed to be the man who casts the longest shadow—never mind if the city dies in the dark behind you.”

His jaw clenched. “You think I wanted this? You think I enjoy being forced to do what weak stomachs like yours cannot?”

I slammed my hand down, rattling the ink bottle on his desk. “Don’t you dare mistake conscience for weakness. The people out there—they’re not pawns. They’re not currency. And if you keep treating them like they are, then the Riveras won’t have to fight us. The city will rise on its own and tear us apart.”

The silence that followed was bitter. For the first time in days, he looked away, just for a moment. His face was unreadable.

I pressed harder, my voice dropping. “You say we’re different. You say we are better than the Riveras But right now? I don’t see liberators. I see tyrants.”

That word landed like a blade. His head snapped back toward me, his eyes burning. “Careful, Vivienne.”

“I’m past careful,” I bit out. “I’m done watching you destroy the city you claim to love.”

The air between us was stretched so thin it might break with a single breath. And then—
Then the door burst open.

Leo stumbled in, half-collapsed against the frame. His face was swollen on one side, blood seeping from a cut along his brow. One eye was nearly shut. In his hand he clutched a black card,

“Boss !” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “Marisol—they took her!”

I rushed to his side, catching his arm as he sagged. “Leo, what happened?”

He shoved the card toward me,his breath was shaking. “Masked men—black hoods—caught us on the way back from the docks. They came out of nowhere. Marisol fought—tried to give me cover—but they dragged her. I—” His voice broke with frustration. “I couldn’t stop them.”

My stomach turned to ice. I snatched the card from his hand. It was blank except for a crest burned deep into the surface. The same twisted lines from the crates. The same snare tightening around us.

Beneath it, scrawled in red ink, was a riddle:

“Seek the place where iron sings and chains sleep.
Beneath the rust, the caged bird weeps.
Follow the tide where the lanterns fade,
There you will find the debt she’s paid.”

My hands shook as I read it. The docks. The old shipyard. Somewhere cold and hidden, where lanterns barely touched the tide.

I looked up at Lucian. My anger hadn’t cooled—it burned hotter. “Do you see now? Do you see what your fire bought us? While you played king before the blaze, they struck. They’ve been three steps ahead, and now Marisol’s paying the price.”

I shoved the card into his chest, hard enough that he had to catch it. “Read it. And tell me we don’t go. Tell me you’ll let her rot while you sit here playing king in your study.”

He said nothing at first, just turned the card in his hand, eyes skimming the words.

I stepped closer, every nerve in me on fire. “We’re finding her. Tonight. Whether you stand with me or not.”

If Lucian thought I would falter, he was wrong. Marisol wasn’t just another name lost in the war. She was my sister in everything but blood, the one who had pulled me back from darkness more times than I could count. And now she was out there, alone, terrified—or worse.

“I won’t let them break her,” I whispered, more to myself than him. My voice cracked, but I calmed down
“I owe her everything. Every piece of strength I have, she helped forge. She never turned her back on me, not once. I’ll burn every dock, every ship, every shadowed alley until she’s back in my arms. Do you hear me, Lucian? Every. Single. One.”

His gaze lifted to mine. For once, he didn’t have an answer ready on his tongue.

And in that silence, in the burn of his eyes meeting mine, I knew: this was no longer about power, or pride, or war. This was about Marisol. And I would tear the city apart to bring her home..