Page 150 of Princess of Vengeance

Cassandra has never been my enemy, exactly. She stuck up for me when Owen blamed me for Imogen’s death. She fought alongside us against Malcolm and Elliot. She risked her life right along with the rest of us.

Whatever she wants to discuss, it’s better to hear her out than to leave potential loose ends dangling.

“When and where?” I ask.

“Tomorrow evening? Say seven o’clock?” she suggests. “There’s a restaurant called The Reserve on 8th Street. Neutral territory, public enough to be safe, private enough to talk freely.”

I know the place—upscale but not pretentious, with private booths that offer discretion without isolation. A good choice for a meeting like this.

“Not Noctura?” I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

She laughs softly. “I think we’ve all had enough of Noctura for a lifetime, don’t you?”

She’s not wrong. Just the thought of that place evokes a visceral reaction in my gut. I’d be happy never to set foot in it again.

“Seven works,” I tell her. “Just me, or…?”

“Bring your men if you’d like,” she says, and I can hear the shrug in her voice. “This isn’t an ambush, Quinn. Just a conversation.”

“We’ll be there,” I say. Not because I think I need protection, but because we’re a unit now. Where I go, they go. What I face, they face.

“Perfect. Until tomorrow, then.”

I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket. Three sets of eyes are fixed on me, waiting for an explanation.

“Cassandra wants to meet,” I tell them. “Tomorrow evening at The Reserve.”

“What does she want?” Nico asks.

I shrug. “She says she wants to tie up loose ends. Nothing threatening.”

“And you believe her?” Atlas asks, the skepticism clear in his tone.

I consider it for a moment. “Yeah, I do. She could have made a move against us by now if that was her plan. And she fought with us, not against us, when it mattered.”

Killian nods. “We’ll go with you.”

It’s not a question or an offer—it’s a statement of fact. They’ll be there, whether I want them to be or not. But the thing is, I do want them there. I always want them there.

“I already told her we’d be there,” I say with a small smile. “All of us.”

Some of the tension leaves Nico’s shoulders. “Good.”

The Reserve livesup to its name—understated elegance with dark wood paneling and leather booths tucked away for privacy. The kind of place where important people make important deals over expensive whiskey without too many prying eyes or ears around.

We arrive a few minutes early, but Cassandra and Owen are already there, seated at a corner booth with drinks in front of them. My pulse quickens at the sight of them together, a reflex from days when a summons from the Dark Lotus Syndicate meant nothing but trouble.

“Relax,” Nico murmurs, his hand at the small of my back. “We outnumber them.”

“And we’re better armed,” Killian adds quietly, his eyes scanning the restaurant with practiced precision.

Atlas says nothing, but he shifts slightly, positioning himself between me and the rest of the room. Even here, even now, they’re protecting me. There was a time when it would have annoyed me—I’m proud of the fact that I can handle my own shit—but instead, it just makes me feel… cherished. Protected in a way that doesn’t diminish my strength.

Cassandra rises as we approach, extending her hand. “Quinn. Thank you for coming.”

I shake her hand in return. “Cassandra. Owen.” I nod to him, and he inclines his head.

We slide into the booth, and the server materializes instantly with menus and water. We order drinks, and then there’s that awkward moment of silence as we size each other up.

---