Chapter 5: Cracks in the Throne

The next morning dawned gray and heavy, rain lashing against the mansion’s bulletproof windows like accusations. Lila woke alone Ethan had slipped out before sunrise for an emergency council with the remaining lieutenants. The bed still smelled of him: gun oil, expensive cologne, and the faint musk of last night’s desperate sex. She pressed her face into his pillow for a moment, breathing him in, then forced herself upright. The golden pistol sat on the nightstand like a sleeping serpent. She picked it up, checked the chamber still one round unfired from the anniversary gift and tucked it into the waistband of her silk shorts.