Seventy-two hours.
That was how long it took for the news of the Vipera Cartel's complete annihilation to echo through the global underworld. In just three days, I had absorbed their remaining legitimate assets into the Vance Empire, while Darius's forces swallowed their territories whole.
The city was ours. Completely and unconditionally.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master study in Blackwood Manor, sipping a glass of rare vintage Bordeaux. The storm had finally passed, leaving the city skyline glittering under the night sky.
Strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Darius pulled my back flush against his hard chest, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"You've been staring at that skyline for twenty minutes, Elara," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my skin. "The city is yours. There are no more rats hiding in the alleys."
"I'm not looking at the city, Darius," I replied softly, tilting my head back slightly to lean into his touch. "I'm looking past it. Victor Vane was just a symptom. The disease is the Shadow Council."
Darius turned me around in his arms, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The possessive, feral glint in his gaze was just as intense as the night we met.
"If the Council wants a war, we will give them a war that will drown Europe in blood," Darius said smoothly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "But tonight, you are going to rest. The Living Yama needs to sleep."
Knock. Knock.
The heavy wooden doors of the study opened, and Sebastian, my loyal butler, stepped inside. His usually calm, composed face was tight with an unusual tension. He was carrying a sleek, rectangular obsidian box.
Darius instantly shifted, his relaxed posture evaporating into lethal alertness. His hand instinctively hovered near the concealed weapon under his jacket.
"Sebastian," I said, frowning. "I told security no packages were to be brought into the inner sanctum without thorough scanning."
"It was scanned, Madam," Sebastian said, his voice grave. "No explosives, no chemical agents, no tracking devices. It was left at the front gates of the Vance Corporation ten minutes ago by a courier who subsequently swallowed a cyanide pill."
Darius's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A suicide courier. That's Council protocol."
"Put it on the desk, Sebastian," I ordered.
Sebastian placed the obsidian box on the mahogany desk and stepped back. Darius moved in front of me, shielding my body with his own as he flipped the silver latch and opened the lid.
There was no explosion. No poison gas.
I stepped out from behind Darius to look inside. Resting on a bed of blood-red velvet was a single, perfectly preserved black rose.
And placed neatly across the stem of the rose was a silver surgical scalpel.
It wasn't just any scalpel. It was an exact replica of the custom, silver-plated blades I kept strapped to my thigh. Except this one had been snapped cleanly in half.
Beside the broken blade was a small, embossed card made of heavy cardstock.
Darius picked it up, reading the elegant, handwritten script aloud.
"The Council demands balance. The debt must be paid. See you in Paris, Yama. — The Architect."
The moment Darius uttered the name, the temperature in my blood plummeted to absolute zero. My breath hitched, a sudden, sharp intake of air that made Darius snap his gaze to me.
"Elara?" Darius's voice lost its coldness, replaced by instant, fiercely protective concern. "You're pale. Who is The Architect?"
I stared at the broken scalpel. Memories I had buried deep within the darkest corners of my mind clawed their way to the surface. Memories of a sterile, white room. Of blood that wouldn't stop flowing. Of the one time the Living Yama had failed.
"Three years ago, before I went into hiding and married Julian," I began, my voice eerily quiet. "I was kidnapped by a rogue faction of the European mob. They brought me to a secret facility to save a man who had been shot fourteen times."
Darius stepped closer, his thumb gently stroking my cheek, grounding me in the present. "And you saved him?"
"I saved him," I whispered, looking up into Darius's eyes. "His codename was The Architect. He is the master strategist of the Shadow Council. He orchestrates the rise and fall of entire nations."
"If you saved his life, why is he sending you a broken blade and a death threat?" Darius asked, his jaw clenching with suppressed rage.
I took a deep breath, the chilling truth finally spilling from my lips.
"Because while he was unconscious on my operating table, I discovered what he was planning to do to the Vance Empire," I said coldly. "So, after I stitched his heart back together... I intentionally severed his spinal cord. I paralyzed the most dangerous man in Europe from the waist down."
Darius stared at me in stunned silence for a fraction of a second before a low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. A look of absolute awe and twisted pride washed over his face.
"God," Darius laughed, pulling me tightly against his chest, his eyes blazing with mad adoration. "Every day I find a new reason to worship you, Elara."
He looked down at the black rose, his smile turning into a lethal sneer.
"Tell Sebastian to ready the private jet," Darius commanded, his eyes burning with the thrill of the hunt. "We're going to Paris."