Chapter 9 - THE SHADOW BEHIND THE THRONEBack at the newly rebuilt Vale estate—a modern fortress of glass, steel, and stone erected on the ashes of the old mansion—the atmosphere was calm, but deadly efficient.
In the master study, Jack Mercer stood before a wall-mounted digital map of global shipping routes, tracking cargo vessels across the Atlantic.
The door opened, and Emily walked in carrying a steaming cup of black coffee and a fresh dossier.
“The Zurich council signed over the last of the Mediterranean ports this morning,” Emily said, laying the dossier on the mahogany desk. “And our internal security sweep finished checking every guard and servant on the estate. Everyone is clean.”
Jack turned around, folding his massive arms across his chest.
“You’ve come a long way from scrubbing blood off the library floor, kid,” Jack rumbled, a rare, approving grin crossing his scarred face. “Almost makes me wish I’d let you cut my hair instead of Mason’s stitches.”
Emily laughed lightly.
“Keep talking like that, Jack, and I’ll find some industrial sewing cord for your favorite jacket.”
Before Jack could reply, Mason stepped into the study from his private quarters.
The bandages were finally gone from his shoulder, leaving behind a jagged, pale scar where the poisoned thread had nearly taken his life.
He walked over to the window, looking out over the private harbor where his empire now stretched further than it ever had under Arthur’s paranoid rule.
“We won the war against the old guard,” Mason said, his voice steady and resolute. “But power leaves a vacuum. And in our line of work, empty chairs don't stay empty for long.”
May you like
Emily stepped up beside him, resting her hands on the edge of the glass sill.
“Then let them come,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting the cold, brilliant lights of the city below. “We have the scissors.”
