22. Eva
Eva
B lood slicks my hands as I crouch in the hidden passage behind the Great Hall.
Leon slumps against the stone wall behind me, his breathing labored.
Three bullet wounds—shoulder, thigh, and a graze along his ribs that’s bleeding more than I’d like.
None fatal, but he’s struggling to shoot with his non-dominant hand.
We’ve been very effective with our guerrilla tactics, striking from shadows, using every secret passage and hidden armory the castle holds.
The bodies we’ve left in our wake are numerous.
And the Rivers children are safe. When I checked the camera feeds that suddenly came through on my phone, I saw that the boat was missing from the boathouse.
Dimi’s work, no doubt—for all his protests, he’s clever when he needs to be.
The thought brings a flicker of relief amid the chaos.
Robin is safe. Safe and with her family, somewhere out on the black lake, hidden in darkness where no searchlight can reach them.
Dimi, it seems, must have come back to the castle, perhaps sacrificed himself to get to my study, turn on the security feeds. My heart hurts as I think of him possibly hurt.
Or worse.
But at least Robin and her family are safe.
I wipe blood from my hands on my already-stained clothes, trying to steady my trembling fingers as I check the camera feeds on my phone again.
The acts I’ve been forced into tonight have revolted me, but we’ve survived.
We’ve taken down quite a number of their team through cunning and intimate knowledge of the environment.
And knowing that Robin and her siblings are beyond reach gives me strength to continue.
My phone screen flashes through various angles throughout the castle as I try to plan our next move.
And then I see her.
Robin is racing down the great stone staircase toward the foyer. My heart seizes as I watch mercenaries rushing in from the main entrance—fresh reinforcements, or stragglers who’d been securing the perimeter.
She doesn’t see them until it’s too late.
They grab her arms, pinning them behind her back. Cold terror floods my veins, more complete and devastating than anything I’ve ever felt facing my own death.
They have Robin.
But the horror isn’t finished. As I watch the screen in growing dread, a familiar figure strolls into the foyer, moving casually among the mercenaries.
Uncle Stefan, immaculate as always despite the chaos around him, moves past them all without even a glance at Robin. He moves into the Great Hall like he’s arriving for afternoon tea.
His voice carries through the room with perfect clarity: “Eva! We have Robin here. I don’t want to hurt her, but I will if I have to.”
Stefan.
The man who comforted me after my father’s death, who guided my first steps as leader of the Consortium, the man I trusted with my life.
And yet…it is not quite the shock it should be. Some part of me, I think, has always expected this.
Leon’s hand reaches for my arm, his grip weak but desperate. “Don’t.”
I shake him off gently but firmly. There are some battles you face alone, and this is mine. “Go to the lake,” I tell him. “Mira will be there with Robin’s family, out in the middle. You must protect them at all costs. That is my final order to you.”
And then I speak the ancient words that have no English equivalent—a benediction that releases him from service, a formal acknowledgment of duty fulfilled, a grateful farewell.
Leon’s eyes fill with tears—this man who has taken bullets for me, who has been my shield and sword for most of my life. He bows his head, then moves slowly into the darkness of the passage, away from this confrontation.
My chest aches watching him go, but I steel myself for what’s coming. Some truths can only be faced in the open, under the harsh light of consequence.
And Stefan is about to learn exactly what it means to cross me.
I take a steadying breath and step out of the secret passage into the Great Hall.
The devastation is worse than the cameras showed. Bullet holes scar ancient stone, furniture lies overturned, and the smell of cordite hangs heavy in the air. But the massive windows overlooking the black lake remain intact, at least, the bullet-resistant glass holding firm.
Uncle Stefan stands in the center of this chaos, still radiating the calm authority that once comforted me. Around him, his hired mercenaries hold their weapons ready, professional killers awaiting orders.
And there, gripped by two black-clad soldiers, is Robin. Her face is pale but determined, blue eyes blazing with defiance even in captivity.
I summon every ounce of Novak sangfroid, painting my face with cool verve and sardonic amusement. “Shall I send the cleaning bill to you, Uncle?”
Stefan’s expression is sorrowful rather than triumphant, which somehow makes the betrayal cut deeper. “Eva,” he says softly. “If you had only proved to be the woman your father thought you were, I would not have had to do this.”
“How long?” I ask, my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest. “How long have you been working against me?”
He dismisses the question with a wave. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have proven yourself unworthy of leading the Consortium. It’s time for another to take over.”
“You, I suppose?”
Before he can answer, we both glance up at the sound of feet running, and someone bursts into the hall. Dimi stops dead when he sees his father among the mercenaries, his face cycling through shock, confusion, and dawning horror.
“No, Eva,” Stefan says. “Not me. But my son, Dimitri.”
Dimi stares at his father with something approaching devastation. “You did this …for me ?”
Stefan steps toward his son with gentle authority. “You can be a better man than you have allowed yourself to be, Dimi. You are the only suitable heir, in any case—with my guidance, my experience to shape you.”
I watch this family drama unfold with growing disbelief. Stefan has orchestrated tonight’s invasion, terrorized innocent people, all to place his dissolute son on a throne Dimi has never wanted.
Dimi stares at his father for what feels like eternity, then slowly turns to look at me. Something passes across his features—but I can’t read the expression.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last, his voice hollow. “But I cannot side with you against my father.”
I’ve lost so much tonight—loyal people, trusted allies, the illusion of safety I thought I’d built around the people I love. But this cuts deepest of all.
“You think you are capable of leading the Consortium?” I can’t keep the disbelief from my voice.
Dimi’s expression shifts, the familiar playboy mask sliding back into place. But now it looks sinister rather than charming—a snake’s camouflage. “I’ve done rather well tonight,” he says with a debonair shrug. “If you doubt my capabilities, ask Robin. She’s seen firsthand what I’m capable of.”
We’ve been speaking in the local dialect, and I watch Robin’s face reflect growing confusion and desperation as she struggles to follow the conversation.
“Please,” she says to Stefan, her voice breaking slightly. “Let us all go. Eva will come back to Vegas with me if you do. She’ll leave you alone.”
My heart breaks watching her try to negotiate, hoping against hope that reason might penetrate Stefan’s madness. She’s so brave, my beautiful little bird.
Stefan regards her with something approaching sympathy. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, my dear. I had hoped at one point to keep Eva as a figurehead, let her maintain the illusion of power while I guided from behind. But she has moved too far from the Consortium’s core values. She cannot live.”
I step forward, lifting my chin with Novak pride.
“You are a fool and a traitor,” I tell him clearly. “But I am willing to die—if you let Robin and her family go. Be merciful to the people who served me, who are loyal to me in the Consortium. Spare the innocent.”
Stefan studies me with what might be regret. “You have always been courageous, Eva. Steadfast. Loyal. Just about the wrong things. So yes, I will accept your sacrifice and let the others live.”
“No.”
Dimi’s sharp interruption cuts through the moment like a blade. Stefan turns to his son with impatience.
“Stay out of this, Dimi.”
But Dimi moves closer to him. “Eva has powerful friends in America—the Bianchis, the Styx Syndicate, the Colombos. If we let Robin go, she’ll contact them. They might band together and rise against us. They could tear the Consortium apart seeking revenge.”
Stefan’s eyebrows rise with genuine surprise and approval. “You’re thinking strategically at last, Dimitri.” He nods slowly. “Yes, that could happen. I have no wish to rule over rubble—this must be done with as little bloodshed as possible.”
I give a bitter laugh. “Why stop the bloodshed now, uncle? You were behind the hit on my father, weren’t you?
And the attempts on my life—Paris, Vegas, all of it.
The Gattos had nothing to do with that. They were just a convenient distraction, a cover for the activities of professionals you hired.
And that’s where all the money went, too—those large sums that Markov funneled to you, they were supposed to pay for it all.
Ex-military contractors, black ops specialists. ”
Stefan’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes—acknowledgment, perhaps relief that the pretense is finally over.
“The Gattos,” he says slowly, “were useful idiots. And they were all too eager to listen to me when I went to them with a plan to remove you. Unfortunately, they proved even more useless than I expected.”
“Or my allies proved much more effective,” I say coldly.
He just shrugs. “It was a mess, the whole thing,” he concedes. “Which is why I knew the time had come to hit you where you lived—literally.”
“Because you want the Consortium for yourself. That’s what you’ve always wanted. Enough to kill your own brother over it!”
“Zoltan was a fool!” Stefan snaps, his temper breaking through at last. “How could he possibly think a woman could be capable of leading the Consortium—soft and emotional?—”
I laugh at that. I can’t help it. “Oh, yes. That’s me, alright,” I say sarcastically.
“Tenderhearted, gentle, kind to others. My God, Stefan, even if that were true, nothing would justify what you did. What did you think would happen after murdering your own brother? I was already named his successor!”
“I thought the Consortium would see sense ,” he spits. “I thought they’d understand Dimi was the better choice to lead—the natural choice.”
“They saw that he would be your puppet, nothing more,” I reply with disdain.
“I tried,” he growls at me. “I tried for years to accept it. To make you stronger. At times, it seemed to work. But the moment she came into your life—” He stabs his finger at Robin, but before I can respond, noise erupts from the main entrance.
A stream of villagers enters the room: men with shotguns and hunting rifles, some clutching kitchen knives, even one brandishing a pitchfork.
Their leader, a weathered man I recognize from the tavern, raises his weapon and shouts: “We will not let the Lady of the Black Lake be overthrown!”
I stare in as much shock as Uncle Stefan. The mercenaries huddle together in formation, cautious and wary.
“Your command, sir?” the man I presume is their leader barks at my uncle.
Stefan hesitates, clearly not expecting this complication.
But Dimi seizes on the distraction to make a move.
He strides forward, grabbing a tactical knife from one of the mercenaries’ belts as he passes. The blade catches the light as he raises it, and time seems to slow as he heads for the woman I love more than life itself.