The snowstorm hammered Montreal, turning streets into rivers of slush. The rebellion should have roared louder than ever, yet the city lay quiet, blanketed in shame after the broadcast.
Sebastian wouldn't accept silence.
Inside a half-frozen warehouse, he stood before the last of his men—ragged, weary, but still burning with fragments of loyalty. His voice shook with rage as he raised a pistol.
"They say I'm a thief! They say I starve children!" His hand trembled as he fired into the ceiling, sparks falling like dying stars. "But Ashford starves the world with chains of gold! If we cannot beat him in daylight, then we burn him in the dark."
The men roared, though it was a hollow sound.
The Reckless Gambit
That night, Sebastian's forces struck.
A convoy of armored trucks carrying Ashford Banking negotiators was ambushed on the icy highway. Molotovs lit the snow in violent orange flames as gunfire cracked. For the first time, Arthur's men bled, their blood staining the snow crimson.
News of the attack spread quickly—Sebastian had finally drawn blood from the empire.
But in Arthur's Manhattan tower, the Emperor of Finance only leaned back in his chair, a glass of Bordeaux in hand.
"Desperation makes men dangerous," Arthur murmured. "But also predictable."
Eva's digital webs were already at work—satellite tracking, hidden transmitters, even hacked burner phones. Every move Sebastian made was already being recorded.
Cracks in the Lion's Pride
Back in Montreal, Sebastian sat in the dark, his hands blackened with soot from the firebombs. His men were thinning, hunted by both police and Ashford enforcers.
Yet when one of his captains dared to suggest surrender, Sebastian struck him across the face with the butt of his pistol.
"Arthur cannot win. If I die, I die free. If you fear death, then crawl back to your masters!"
But even as the words left his lips, Sebastian saw the hesitation—the doubt—in their eyes.
Arthur's Quiet Victory
At dawn, Arthur held a press conference in New York. Cameras flashed as he stood at the podium, flanked by Vivian and Bianca.
"My negotiators were attacked last night," Arthur announced, his voice calm but firm. "They carried no weapons—only contracts to fund hospitals, schools, and housing in Montreal."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"The so-called rebellion has revealed itself for what it is," Arthur continued. "Violence for its own sake. But Ashford Finance does not bend to chaos. We will rebuild, stronger, and for the people."
Applause thundered. Investors cheered. Stocks soared.
Sebastian had shed blood—but Arthur had turned it into gold.
The Lion's Roar Fading
That evening, Sebastian stood at the edge of the frozen St. Lawrence River, watching the water choke beneath slabs of ice.
His breath hung in the air like smoke as he whispered, "They believe him. They always believe him."
The young lion's roar still echoed—but each time weaker, swallowed by the cold.
Arthur had not needed to strike a killing blow. He had only to wait, and Sebastian's fire would smother itself.