Page 151 of Princess of Vengeance

“So,” I say, never one to beat around the bush. “What’s this about?”

Cassandra and Owen exchange a look, some unspoken communication passing between them. It’s Cassandra who speaks.

“Before we went up against Malcolm,” she begins. “Imogen and I had a conversation. A contingency plan, of sorts.”

My stomach tightens at the mention of Imogen. Her death still feels too raw.

“She told me that if anything happened to her, she wanted me to take over her business interests. To continue her legacy.” Cassandra takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving mine. “I had told her the same. We agreed to look out for each other, even in death.”

I glance at Owen, who has been watching me with an unreadable expression. “And now?” I ask.

“Now,” Cassandra continues, “I’m doing what I promised. Taking over key parts of her organization and keeping them running. But it’s a lot for one person.” She leans forward slightly. “That’s where you two come in.”

She sets down her glass with a decisive click. “I have a proposal. The three of us—you, me, Owen—we continue the business. Not as the Dark Lotus Syndicate, but as something new. Something better.”

I blink, caught off guard. Of all the things I expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the fucking list.

“It can’t be like the Syndicate at all,” Owen says. “No blood debts. No one man or woman calling all the shots. No manipulation.”

“True partners,” Cassandra nods. “With equal voices, equal stakes, and equal benefits.”

I lean back in my seat, studying them both. Cassandra’s proposal has caught me completely off guard. A partnership with two of the most powerful players left in Detroit’s underworld.No Malcolm forcing our hands, no Elliot stabbing us in the back. Just business on a scale I’ve only dreamed about before now.

“Why me?” I ask, genuinely curious. “You two have been at this a lot longer than I have.”

Owen’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “Because you’re the one who brought Malcolm down. You proved you’re not just an upstart with a big mouth—you’re a force in your own right.”

I feel a surge of pride at that. He’s right—my men and I are a force, and together we control a significant portion of Detroit’s criminal operations. And our people are fiercely loyal, not just hired guns.

“What exactly would this partnership entail?” I ask, warming up to the idea.

Cassandra outlines the basics—shared resources, divided territories, mutual protection, combined networks. It’s a solid proposal, one that would make all of us stronger while reducing competition and conflict.

“No more Malcolm-style power plays,” Owen emphasizes. “We work together, or not at all.”

I’m stunned, honestly. Not just by the offer itself, but by how much I find myself considering it. The power of belonging to a group isn’t lost on me—I’ve seen what Enigma and Carnage can accomplish together. Extending that network and protection to include Cassandra’s and Owen’s operations could be enormous.

And this time, there would be no puppet master pulling the strings from behind the scenes. No one forcing their will on anyone else. Just adults making decisions together.

I glance at my men, seeking their input without having to ask for it aloud. Atlas gives me a subtle nod—he sees the potential. Killian’s face is impassive as always, but there’s no disapproval in his eyes. And Nico gives me that look. The one that says “it’s your call, and I’m with you either way.”

They’ll support me, whatever I decide.

I turn back to Cassandra and Owen. “I’m in,” I tell them, decision made. “But with one condition.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“My men have a seat at the table too,” I say firmly. “All three of them. They’re just as much a part of this as I am. They helped take Malcolm down, and they’ve earned their place.”

Pride gleams in their eyes as my words sink in.

Owen considers, tapping his finger against his glass. “And if there’s a split in your ranks? If you don’t all agree?”

I snort. “Then we figure it out among ourselves before we bring it to the table. But trust me, we’re pretty fucking good at working things out.”

Atlas makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. He knows exactly how we “work things out”—usually in bed, after thoroughly exhausting each other.

More negotiation follows—details about territories, about who controls what aspects of the business, about how often we’ll meet and how disputes will be resolved. It’s surprisingly civil, even enjoyable. There’s a clarity to negotiating with people who respect you, who see you as an equal rather than an obstacle or a tool.

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