2023-12-03 17:01:15
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299 The Little Bird Dies First
Charles leaned in, voice dropping into something warm and poisonous. "You thought you were spying on him, little bird. You were being collected.""You're lying," Kate rasped. Her voice came out broken and small, and she hated it, hated that the words landed somewhere soft and unguarded in her chest. "The Mayor doesn't—he doesn't know anything.""Mm. Hold that thought." Charles glanced at his watch, still holding her over the drop as casually as a grocery bag."We have forty minutes, and I confess I hadn't planned an appetizer, but you'll do beautifully. I'm going to break you—slowly, the joints first, nothing fatal—and I'm going to arrange you right here on the platform so that when Father arrives for our little duel, the first thing he sees is what's left of you. I want to see his face when he understands the evening's tone."He said it the way other men discussed dinner reservations. That, more than the pain, more than the drop below her, was the moment true fear closed around Kate'
298 The Little Bird Cries First
Kate did not answer him. Answering was what amateurs did—talking bought the enemy time to read you, and she had no intention of being read.Her wrist snapped up, and twin grapple lines shrieked out of her gauntlets, whipping around a crane arm overhead. She yanked herself into the air, swung wide around Charles in a blurring arc, and came down on his blind side with both boots aimed at the base of his skull.It was a strike that had shattered the collarbone of a two-hundred-pound enforcer last winter. It was the hardest opening she had.Her boots connected with a sound like a hammer striking a bridge pillar.Charles did not move. Not an inch. His head did not even tilt with the impact.The shock traveled backward instead, up through Kate's ankles and knees like she had drop-kicked a cathedral. She rolled off him, landed, and immediately unloaded everything she had brought, because some cold animal part of her brain had already understood what her mind refused to accept.Stun charges c
297 The Little Bird Flies First
"A duel," Victor repeated flatly. "Father and son on a rooftop, winner takes Springfield. And if you lose, what do I collect? Your corpse?"Charles spread his hands, all easy charm. "The satisfaction of beating your own blood isn't enough?""I don't fight for satisfaction." Victor's voice was ice over deep water. "You want my city. Then stake something I want. Carol Atelier—the real one. Alive, unharmed, released the moment you fall. Otherwise, there is no duel. I'll simply walk out of this room, and you can explain to the Puppetmaster why his little theater production closed on opening night."Sophia's head snapped toward her son. "Charles, no. She is our only—"Charles silenced her with a raised finger, never taking his eyes off Victor. His smile widened, slow and delighted, like a boy who'd just been handed a better toy."Done," he said. "When I win, the city kneels to me. If you somehow win, dear Carol comes home to you. You have my word.""Your word." Victor's lip curled. "Proof
296 The Son
Victor's thoughts churned as the last traces of Sophia's false face faded. She now stood in the space Carol had occupied, the change so seamless it pointed straight to the use of Nanite.Only that technology could reshape someone so completely. The realization landed with cold clarity—she was working for the Puppetmaster.Using Carol's appearance for the lie felt like a deliberate strike at his weakest point. And the real Carol? Where was she?It was the Puppetmaster's signature move—create confusion, remove the one person who mattered, and watch the rest unravel. His mind moved fast through the variables. If Sophia had access to that level of tech, the Puppetmaster was closer than Victor had allowed himself to believe.The real Carol's disappearance was no accident. It was leverage, or a threat. He needed to find her before this game went any further, but first, he had to deal with the threat standing in front of him.Charles observed the shift in Victor's expression with a smile th
295 The Mother
The large screen above the podium flickered to life, its pixels resolving into bold white text on a deep blue field: VICTOR CROMWELL.Victor had won the mayoral election by a narrow margin! A wave of cheers surged from one section of the hall, people raising their hands, waving flags, and calling out his name."Victor! Victor!""We love you, Mayor Cromwell!"The opposing side offered only scattered applause, quiet conversations, and a few shaken heads. Victor's retinue, positioned near the stage, exchanged subtle nods as relief settled over them.Carol watched from her spot, her face tightening as the announcement registered. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she pressed her lips together in a firm line.Charles stood beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in with a gentle pull. She leaned against him, her attention still fixed forward on the stage, though her fingers twisted lightly at the fabric of her sleeve.Victor climbed the steps to the podium with steady
294 The Debate
"How is this even legal?" a reporter shouted from the front row, her microphone thrust forward like a weapon. "You can't just declare elections in the middle of a military zone and expect people to vote!"The amphitheater exploded into chaos the instant Charles Wheeler finished speaking. Thousands of voices crashed together—some cheering wildly, their fists pumping in the air. In contrast, others booed and shouted in confusion. "Now? Right now?" a woman near the center screamed, waving her phone like proof of absurdity. "We're standing here watching fireworks, and suddenly we're supposed to pick a mayor?"Flags waved frantically, some in support, others in protest, while media crews surged forward like a tidal wave, cameras rolling, lights flashing, reporters yelling overlapping questions that blended into one roaring din."Is this even possible under military rule?" another journalist bellowed. "Or in a democracy, for that matter? Where's the oversight? The ballots? The time to camp
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