Chapter 34
Ezra
No room for error. Not tonight. Two years of planning locked into place like clockwork. I’d never loved Xan more than when his plans didn’t need fixing.
Unlike our miscalculation with Quinn, which still weighed on me, our plan to take The Royal Mile clicked into place.
I’d abandoned the Architect’s Mixer and stormed the empty streets connecting us to Holyrood Palace. Building after building fell under our control. With Xan’s monsters at my side, even our enemies endured us rather than lose everything.
The Whisky Hall resisted, but Logan McDonald, its owner, was busy at our Mixer. I left his guards tied in the shape of a whisky still—a gift and a warning.
It took my teams of enforcers less than an hour to secure the final building. Every person in Fight or Physically poured out of our castle to build the new gate system that would allow us complete control of our new territory.
Just outside the portcullis, I helped erect our command tent.
No one could get by without physically moving my structure, which wouldn’t be happening.
Moments after I covered a temporary table in maps, the first group exited.
I didn’t recognize them, guests who either made camp or had allies in the city.
They slowed as they walked through my tent with wide eyes.
Valentino, my relations officer, greeted them by name before sending them off with an escort home.
One of our allies exited next. As surprised as our guests, he slowed. I left him to Valentino, who reminded him of our new agreement, focusing on the exchange of goods, the ban on slavery, and the community we were building.
“Took the Architect long enough.” He grinned and pressed his magic into the binding contract as if it were a love letter.
“I sold out of Snog Gloves thirty minutes ago. I can see on your face that you don’t know what those are, good sir.
Gloves that shock wandering hands. Think of chastity for your fingertips! ”
I tuned out their chatter as another man slowed.
For a moment, he looked ready to bolt, until he found my purple gaze boring into him, a vendor, not on our list of allies.
Eventually, he came to the correct conclusion that the only way out was forward.
When he still didn’t bend to Valentino’s smooth voice, I let him kneel and watch the parade of people exiting.
Some signed. Others joined my growing list of prisoners. My first gate reported as completed. The night could not be going better.
‘Quinn!’ Xan’s voice shredded my mind, raw panic in every word. I fought to stay conscious, only keeping my feet because of the table at my hip.
‘She’s just gone.’ Fear laced his every word, though his power in my mind eased. ‘Her pain. So much pain inside her skull, and now nothing. Our tether is blank.’
Ice filled my chest. ‘Where did you last feel her?’
An image of the dance floor, followed by a vague sense of the walls, filled my mind. I didn’t understand it.
‘The Lawson family surrounded her. I’m diffusing that at the moment, can you...’
Xan didn’t need to finish. Still braced on the table, I barked out orders to my closest enforcer, who took off running.
A flurry of TB messages followed, demanding her friends check in.
I forced myself to breathe, despising this part of my job.
Instead of fighting, building, or searching for my girl freely, I was trapped here, in this tent.
Because we still didn’t have The Mile. Until every vendor passed through and every entry had our gate on it, I couldn’t leave this tent.
‘A team is en route, reporting to Rowan.’ I hated what I had to say next. ‘We don’t control The Mile’.
The weight of my words slowed our thoughts. Two years of work, financing, and planning went into tonight. We couldn’t deviate or we’d lose everything, maybe even our castle if the families were bold enough to strike back. We had to finish what we started.
I wanted to rip the tent apart, hunt her through the dark with rage and instinct. But I was commander first. My family came first.
‘I will manage with Rowan.’ Xan’s voice was threadbare, unraveling. He was either reading my mind or had drawn the same conclusion. ‘Until The Mile is ours, do not leave your post.’
Guilt flooded me as we prioritized the family’s well-being over the woman holding our hearts, but it was the right call. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could look for Quinn.
The pause ended. Partygoers spilled out laughing, unaware someone was missing. My someone.
“…three Lawsons. Young.”
“…all in white.”
“…fought his family.”
“…sided against the Architect.”
“…more Lawsons. Mind powers. Too dangerous to trust.”
The stream of people lulled.
I ground my fists into my eyes, just to feel something sharp. One breath. One second of weakness. Four factions tried to take her. If one succeeded, we wouldn’t know who.
My night blurred with the job I had to do: steer, sign, bind, repeat. By dawn, only six still kneeled on my floor.
Familiar baby blue caught the corner of my eye, bobbing with my lover’s confident steps, as he escorted Logan McDonald out of our gates. The Mixer was over. Quinn was almost in reach.
Logan saw me. His mouth closed to a thin line.
“Nothing changes,” Xan said evenly, showing Logan into my tent.
The small group of men, still unwilling to sign, looked up at Logan.
My lover ignored his enemies. “Your alliance is still your family. Hate me, plot against me. The land you build on is under my protection now.”
Logan grunted before studying the row of men still bound in my tent.
Time crawled. My TB buzzed, but I didn’t touch it.
“The McDonalds will not forget this,” Logan snapped.
They wouldn’t. The McDonalds built their family on slavery, one step from body snatchers.
“The world’s changing, Logan. I’m just speeding it up.” The Architect stepped forward and gestured to the map on the table. “The McDonalds can choose to evolve, or they can go down fighting.”
Logan stepped forward as well. The map showed the placement of our forces and the basic specs of our new gates. The numbers on the maps were in code, so we weren’t giving our enemies everything, but the gesture pushed forward the trust we needed to build.
“If a single one of my men is hurt, I expect you to heal them, personally,” Logan said, coffee-colored magic glowing at his fingertip. He signed.
“I will,” Xan said simply. “And more.”
Xan handed Logan a coin pouch. “For any damages we may have caused.”
Logan pocketed it. It was a good first step. They walked past the few people who still refused to sign.
“If you’re uncomfortable keeping your bar open for the rest of my celebration, I understand.” My lover’s voice drifted as the two, with a squad of my men at their backs, walked down The Mile.
“No.” Logan sighed. “Even if you hadn’t paid me, I sold four of my most expensive bottles tonight; one of them was the last Tate, a fifty-year-old single malt. It is a shame their family had to mothball and silence the stills…”
The sound of their voices vanished.
“I’d like to sign now,” one of the men on the floor begrudgingly said.
I held up a finger and pulled out my TB. Everly checked in but had no information on Quinn. Except for Quinn and Brit, that was all of them. Even Quinn’s little banished stalker had been accounted for. My men picked him up loitering at our gates before the Mixer even started.
“Is everything okay?” Valentino asked.
I schooled my face. “If they are willing to sign, give them contracts. Otherwise, we’ll give them twenty-four hours to think about it, dangling from our walls.”
Men signed fast.
My TB buzzed again.
Snow White
Secret door in The Great Hall. Too many paths. Can’t find her. What’s plan B?
I squeezed my TB.
There was no plan B.
Again, I waited. Again, I barked orders like they mattered. While she bled into silence, I stood in a goddamn tent, tethered by duty instead of love. And now... it might already be too late.