36. Home
Chapter thirty-six
Home
Lei
Soon, I would go home.
Not the home built of stone and mortar, with grand halls and heavy doors. Not the looming Palace where power seeped into the very walls and echoed with ruthless wealth.
No.
Home was Moni.
She wasn’t a place I could point to on a map or claim with a deed. She was warmth in my chest, fire in my veins, and peace in a world that had always been death and violence.
The thought of her was a rope pulling me through the dark maze of my own mind.
I didn’t know when I’d find my way back to her.
But I knew it would be soon.
Very fucking soon.
The urgency burned in me like a fever, a restless energy that wouldn’t let me stay still.
Home was her touch, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
Home was her voice, weaving through my thoughts, reminding me of everything I had yet to fight for.
Home was her scent, her strength, her defiance, and her surrender—all the pieces of her that made me whole.
Soon.
Until then. . .I would be here.
The wind rippled across Dream Lake—a place where time stood still, where the boundaries between life and death blurred into something infinitely vast yet achingly intimate.
A red moon hung heavy above the water; its reflection fractured by unseen currents.
Overhead, crows soared, dipping and rising in playful arcs.
Completely at peace, I sat on a flat rock near the lake’s edge.
Around me, faint glimmers of green light flickered like fireflies in a twilight meadow. However, they weren’t merely lights.
I knew better.
They were ghosts.
Hundreds and hundreds of translucent people moved across the land and even Dream Lake—men, women, and children.
A green glowing hue outlined their bodies.
They were surreal shadows of humanity.
Their images flickered in and out like a mirage of wavering spectral figures. It was hard to make out good details of them but through the flickering, I noticed the ghosts wearing tattered and charred clothes from a long-ago fashion.
Unlike the stories others reported, these ghosts didn’t jeer or taunt me. They didn’t claw or wail like restless souls in search of vengeance.
No.
They lingered here with those translucent forms shimmering in soft green hues.
They watched, not with judgment, but with a quiet patience that felt oddly reassuring. Their presence was neither cold nor foreboding but warm, as if they were part of the lake itself.
Part of the air.
Part of the very earth I rested on.
The breeze shifted, carrying with it a scent I couldn’t quite place—a blend of fresh rain and earth, tinged with something ancient and sacred. It wrapped around me, filling my lungs, steadying the rhythm of my heart, and. . .I just knew that she would be near me soon.
A sound broke through the silence—boots crunching against the dirt.
I didn’t need to look up.
A second later, she sat beside me without a word.
I turned my head slightly, catching her glowing green silhouette in the moonlight.
The Crownsville Bandit.
With such a big deadly reputation, she was a petite Black woman. I often wondered why the history books had made her a man. Perhaps, the ones that wrote those books were embarrassed to admit that a small Black woman had terrorized them for years.
I smirked.
As always, she wore a feathered cowboy hat. Its wide brim cast deep shadows over her piercing brown eyes. Her shirt—worn and tattered—hung loosely against her ghostly frame, while faded brown pants clung to her thighs.
Two guns rested in holsters at each side. Their leather straps were worn from time and use.
Around her neck, a colorful bandana shifted in the breeze.
She didn’t even look my way. “You’ve changed, little one.”
“Yes.” I returned my gaze to Dream Lake. “I have changed.”
“You didn’t used to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“So calm. So at peace.”
I smirked.
“Long ago, when I tried to talk to you, all you did was stare up at that balcony.” She gestured in the opposite direction.
I didn’t glance back.
I knew what she meant—the balcony to Chanel’s bedroom.
But now, it was just a broken tether to a past obsession that I had finally let go of.
“It was always hard to get your attention.” The Bandit looked at me. “With the way you acted, one would think that I wasn’t a scary ghost.”
“You were still scary. I was just. . .more haunted by my obsession with Chanel.”
“Things have truly changed.” The Rebel nodded slowly. “Good. Because you’ve got things to do.”
Her words were a challenge but I didn’t bristle.
Instead, I turned and met her stare head-on. “The daggers that you said were keys. Ended up being more than just weapons. They were puzzle pieces.”
“The keys to my treasure map.” Her lips curved into a sly smile. “That little girl who solved it is my kin. She’s got the good blood .”
“She’ll be happy to hear that.”
“You got those daggers to her like I hoped. There’s more out there but you can’t get them until after Kashmere is with child. Not before. Remember that. You’ll have to wait.”
That didn’t make any sense.
As far as I knew, Kashmere hadn’t been dating anyone. She’d been forced to take over a throne due to Chanel’s and Romeo’s deaths.
But that didn’t matter now.
There was something that peaked my interest.
I looked at her. “You knew I’d fall in love with TT’s sister, Moni?”
“I hoped, but time is different here. We see the past, present, and future all at once, but things shift. Choices ripple. Futures change. But your heart. . .it likes our blood a lot.”
I thought of the ghosts that appeared to me when I killed my father. “Why does my heart like your family’s blood?”
“I don’t know why. You would have to ask your mother’s people. There’s something in your bloodline that just works different.” The Bandit tilted her head slightly and with deliberate slowness, she reached up and removed her feathered cowboy hat.
At first, it seemed simple enough—a ghostly figure performing a mundane gesture—but as the brim left, I froze.
The top of her head was gone.
Just. . .gone.
Where there should have been a smooth curve of skull or wisps of hair, there was a jagged, hollow opening, as if someone had cleaved it clean off.
For the first time since seeing her long ago, I wondered how she died.
I couldn’t stop staring and leaned a tiny bit closer.
Her spectral form glowed as green as ever but inside the hole in her head, it was just a void. There was no light, no ethereal shimmer—just endless darkness.
Then, as though the sight wasn’t already strange enough, two long braids fell to her shoulders, swaying gently with the breeze.
They seemed completely out of place.
My eyes stayed glued to the hole in her head, no matter how much I wanted to look away.
It wasn’t grotesque—it didn’t bleed, didn’t shift—but it was wrong , a violation of everything my senses understood.
She spoke. “I don’t know what tribe we were but they all had the good blood too.”
From the darkness inside her head, something stirred.
I stiffened.
“Evil men brought us to this country and put us in chains. My people. All with the good blood.”
A sharp beak appeared at the top of her cut-off head, then soon the crow owning the beak poked it’s head out.
I blinked.
This bird wasn’t translucent or glowing green.
It was solid.
Tangible.
Real.
The Bandit continued. “We built every historical building in Paradise City, Glory, and other nearby cities.”
Slowly, the crow crawled out of the hole in the Bandit’s head. Its talons scraped against the edges of the void and the Bandit’s scalp.
Its feathers caught the red moon’s light.
“Don’t believe those history books.” She turned to me and the crow stared at me too with cold, glassy eyes. “Zachariah Glory didn’t do anything but rape and yell out orders to slaves.”
My breath quickened as the crow leaped out of her head and flew off into the night.
Her braids swayed slightly. “We fought wars. When they finally let us go, we built our own town from land they thought was useless. Crownsville was ours. We didn’t bother them; they didn’t bother us.”
Her voice cracked, and she drew in a sharp breath. “Then, I. . .”
“Then what?”
“Then, I. . .ruined it.”
“How?”
She placed that hat back on her head. “I fell in love with the wrong man.”
The last echoes of the crow’s wings faded into the night; I turned my gaze back to the lake. “Who?”
“That doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead.”
The wind rippled across its surface.
The playful crows from earlier had stopped circling and frolicking over the water. Now, they perched in the trees surrounding us, watching.
Tension gathered in my shoulders. “What do you want me to do?”
“The way our blood works. It won’t rest until justice is served. That’s why we stay here. We’re waiting.”
“How would I give you all justice?”
“We built Crownsville. We bled for it. And now it’s time for our descendants to reclaim it.”
“How do you want me to do that?”
“Evil men buried all their dirty secrets with murky water." Her silhouette flared green. “Get rid of the water.”
The absurdity of the task tickled at the back of my mind, but then again, what was ordinary in my world anymore—scheming father, handcuffed new love, crows, ghosts, and a translucent bandit.
Surely, I could add getting rid of Dream Lake to the list.
But could I really do it?
I thought back to what my father had said the night he’d kidnapped Moni.
My father’s eyes glimmered with this calculated intensity as he placed his other hand on TT’s shoulder, like a serpent coiling itself around its prey. “This little girl will not only fully unite the Diamond Syndicate but she will make us the most powerful and richest organization in the world. Do you understand this?”
I scowled. “You think a treasure at the bottom of the lake will have all of those effects?”
“It’s what you all will do to get to the hidden treasure that will unify and strengthen the Syndicate.” He moved his hands from TT’s shoulders and then he placed them on the map.
Soon, he trailed his fingers across the jagged daggered surface and made a huge circle around the town. “All of this is Dream Lake now.”
I frowned. “We know that.”
“Yes, son. But. . .in order to get to the treasure,” He looked up at us. “you’ll need to drain Dream Lake.”
I stepped forward. “That’s impossible.”
My father chuckled. “Is it?”
“It’s a massive lake, father. Do you realize how many people would oppose that? Environmentalists alone would raise hell.”
“Dima is running for mayor, isn’t he? Has he told you?”
“He mentioned it but I’ve been busy chasing after a psycho maniac. Dima will officially announce it to all of the Syndicate once you’re dead and we can go back to everyday business.”
“Dima will need the votes in order to win. Of course he has the North but everywhere else in Paradise City will be tricky. We have 1.4 million registered voters in the East.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He grinned. “That’s why politicians always want to come to our galas, isn’t it? To prance around, shake hands, and gather favor with our people. The East holds heavy voting power. If Dima wants the East’s votes, he’ll need to back the idea of draining the lake.”
Next to me, Moni sucked in a sharp breath.
My father shifted his gaze to her. “Monique, I bet you can get Marcelo, Banks, and Einstein to jump on board. The South has strong political influence as well—another million voters.”
She pursed her lips.
“With both the East and the South pushing for it, draining Dream Lake won’t seem so impossible. And you can talk to Kashmere. The West would want the lake drained too.”
Leaving that memory, I returned to Dream Lake and realized that the Bandit no longer sat next to me.
We can do it but what would happen to Paradise City if we do?
The dark body of water rippled in front of me.
Draining this lake wasn’t just about revealing secrets buried in the muck—it was about power. Sure, the West would reclaim something their ancestors had bled for and lost to greed and hatred.
But the ripples wouldn’t stop at the shoreline.
The entire Diamond Syndicate would feel the shockwaves.
“Too many hands will reach for what’s uncovered.” I swallowed. “And not many will want to share.”
Because in the end. . .draining Dream Lake would unearth not just history but lots and lots of new land. This meant resources and the possibility of building new developments. Whoever had possession of that land would find themselves in an insurmountable position of power.
The boundaries of Paradise City would change.
The West would more than expand, it would be the most dominate accumulation of space.
However, Dream Lake fell into the South too.
In fact. . .it went pretty deep into the South.
If I knew Einstein, he would see the money signs clearly.
Marcelo and Banks wouldn’t be able to ignore it.
Rowe Street Mob would want their cut.
The Killer Crows, bound to the lake’s legacy, wouldn’t stand for sharing.
Because of all that. . .there would be no compromise on either side.
Only war.
My chest tightened as I thought of Moni. Her allegiance to Rowe Street Mob was unwavering, just as mine was to the West.
I let out a long breath. “When the water goes down. . .we might be divided.”
Moni would want the East to back Rowe Street Mob.
I’m not sure if we should just yet. The Killer Crows, although wealthy and successful, had suffered so much from the ghosts and their pasts. They deserved some form of reparations for what had been done to their people.
Yet. . .fair was fair too.
At least 60% of Dream Lake was in Rowe Street Mob’s boundaries on a map that the Killer Crows had drawn. They’d given Rowe Street Mob most of the lake to be wicked and keep them under them in power. Now. . .that decision might come back to bite them in their asses.
I exhaled sharply. “How could I stop the violence?”
The Bandit appeared on my right.
I tensed.
“War will come.” She gave me a sad smile. “But you don’t have to worry about that just now.”
I turned my gaze to her. “What do I focus on, then?”
Her smile widened. “All you’ve got to do is get the man in yellow to push for draining the lake.”
“Dima?”
She nodded, the brim of her cowboy hat casting shadows over her face. “He wants the East’s votes. He’ll need the West’s backing too. You’ve got leverage, little one. Use it.”
I thought of Dima’s smooth words, the way he charmed and strategized, always one step ahead. If draining the lake aligned with his goals, I could push him toward it.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t just talk to him, little one. Get it done by any means possible.”
Those words pressed down on me.
“Because you are finally listening.” She disappeared but her words continued to fill the air. “I’ll tell you two things that are important. Things that will save your legacy.”
I scanned the space, still not seeing her. “Okay.”
“They’re plotting in Shanghai to kill you and your Mountain Mistress.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Send your best people to handle it. However. . .if you two go there, you’ll both be dead. But if you send your best, it will be your enemies’ end.”
I swallowed. “And what is the second thing?”
“Keep your sisters close. Keep them in the East.”
“Why?”
“Go home , little one.”
Before I could respond, the world shifted.
The lake, the other ghosts, the crows—all of it began to dissolve.
All that glowing green light faded into darkness. My breath hitched as the sensation of falling swept through me, pulling me back, back, back, until. . .
I awoke with a jolt.
My heart pounded.
I opened my eyes and blinked a few times.
Where am I?
I took in the new space and realized it wasn’t new at all.
My Palace bedroom stared back at me.
But more important, Moni slept next to me with her hand resting over my heart.
Finally. . .
I turned toward her.
I’m home.