4. Chapter 4
Maddox
From my office, the casino floor hums below me. Chips on glass. Bass through the floorboards. Laughter that gets too loud.
It never used to grate on me like this. It meant everything was running right.
I lift my head from my hands.
My fist comes down on the desk. The map shifts under the impact, paper soft from overhandling. Red marks scatter across the Wastelands in every direction—each one a dead end, a door slammed in my face. There’s still too much unmarked space. Too many places she could be.
Seven days since the trial. Seven days since Arwen disappeared from that chamber in a flash of light, and still no one can tell me where she went.
My fingers find the center of my chest without thinking. The bond is still there—it always is—a low pull beneath my ribs like a tide that won’t go slack.
She’s alive.
I don’t know how I know. I’m new to this. But the pull differs from nothing, and feeling nothing there is what I imagine it would feel like if she were gone.
The tug is a reminder that she’s a survivor.
A knock lands against the door behind me, and I don’t bother looking up. “Come in.”
The door opens and Lucas steps inside, shutting it with practiced silence. He takes in the map on my desk. “You’ve been staring at that for hours.”
“Working,” I respond.
“Obsessing.”
I look up. Lucas is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, shoulders broad enough to claim the space.
"Anyone else would bleed out for that accusation,” I say. “Are you here just to criticize me, or is there something that actually requires my attention?”
He drops a folder onto the desk in front of me.
“Three of our dealers got picked up by the Salt Wardens last night in Devourne,” he says.
“One of your siblings is testing our borders again. Also, the Crimson Crew from Vex’s region has been sniffing around the casino floor in Gluttara.
David said their security teams dropped them off at the border… after removing a few fingers.”
I sigh in frustration. My sibling’s tendency to test me is nothing new.
“They’re probably trying to see if we’re distracted,” Lucas says.
Distracted…
My eyes skim the folder without taking in details.
Normally, this is the kind of problem I’d already have handled. Territory disputes, law enforcement pressure, rival crews looking for weaknesses to sell to the highest bidder—this is the usual rhythm of the city.
But the past week hasn’t been usual. I’m sure my father has filled everyone in on my bond situation and his other spawn are seeing it as a weakness.
“Handle it,” I say.
Lucas studies me for a moment.
“I did,” he replies. “But eventually the guy in charge needs to act like the guy in charge again.”
Lucas hasn’t moved from the wall, but something in his expression has shifted.
“They’re not questioning you yet,” he says. “But they’re watching. You sent half our people into the Wastes, and you’re sitting up here staring at a map like it’s going to talk back to you.”
The words settle somewhere uncomfortable. Because he’s right, and I know he’s right, and knowing it changes nothing.
“You questioning my leadership?”
“No. But our top people are. They know something is up. You sent half our crews into the Wastes.” He pauses. “For her.”
I should have a response to that. I look back down at the map instead, my fingers tracing one of the outer sectors.
“Any word from the units in the Wastes?”
Lucas’s expression shifts, just enough to tell me I already know the answer.
“No sightings,” he says. “None of the scouting teams have found anything in the zones we’ve been able to reach. Hardly any signs of life.”
A dull pressure settles behind my ribs.
“What about the smugglers running the southern ridge?”
“We questioned them yesterday. They have seen no one matching her description, but they’ve been more focused on dodging the rebels in that area.”
The bond pulses again, as if reacting to the conversation.
She’s alive. I’m certain of it.
“Expand the search perimeter,” I say, my attention returning to the map. “If the rebels are blocking access to the southern ridge, pay someone to move them.”
Lucas exhales slowly.
“You know it’s not that easy with the rebels. There’s no way to know their numbers in that area. We’re already stretching our resources thin,” he says. “These units have been wandering the Wastes for a week, leaving certain parts of your territory unprotected. Your siblings are starting to notice.”
That gets my attention. They spend most of their time circling each other like sharks, waiting for the first sign of weakness. If they decide my territory is vulnerable, they won’t hesitate to make a move.
Let them try.
Still, Lucas isn’t wrong. Every hour my crews spend searching the Wastelands is an hour they aren’t protecting what I’ve built.
“She’s out there,” I say.
“I’m not saying she isn’t,” he responds.
“Really? Because you sound like you’re preparing for the alternative.”
Lucas pushes away from the wall and walks toward the desk. His gaze drops to the map before returning to me.
“I’m saying the Council doesn’t exile people so they can stroll back into civilization,” he says.
Something about Arwen’s disappearance has been nagging at me. Everything points to the conclusion that they exiled her to the Wastes. Just as she was told she would be.
But something hasn’t felt right. Despite all the facts, something small keeps making me feel like we missed something. That she’s closer than we think.
And yet there hasn’t been a single confirmed sighting of her.
“I’m not sure the Council sent her out there,” I say.
Lucas’s brow lifts. “Do you have proof of that?”
“No, it’s just instinct.”
Lucas studies me for another moment before nodding once.
“We’ll keep the teams searching,” he says. “But you need to make some decisions for the rest of the empire before someone takes advantage of the situation.”
My attention drifts back to the map as the bond in my chest pulls again, faint but insistent.
“Keep me updated on any progress,” I say.
Lucas nods but hesitates near the door. The conversation isn’t over.
I take a deep sigh. “What is it?”
“One of the Council couriers stopped by earlier.”
“And?”
Lucas’s expression turns neutral. “Your father wants a meeting.”
“Fuck!” I slam my fist down again.
Over the past week, I’ve avoided him. I have redirected every message and delayed every summons with some excuse about territory disputes or business that couldn’t wait.
But avoiding him forever was never an option.
My father is the head of this snake. If he decided tomorrow that my operation needed to disappear, it would.
Power like that doesn’t tolerate being ignored.
“When?” I ask.
“The message didn’t say.”
He hands over a small postcard. Blank on one side. Flipping it over, I recognize his handwriting. ‘You should come see me,’ is all it says.
It may look like a friendly invitation to some, when in reality it’s a veiled threat. He likes to remind people who holds the leash.
I lean back in the chair and stare at the ceiling, thinking through the possibilities. If he’s calling me to Feastwell now, it means he’s noticed something—either the resources I’ve been diverting to the search, or the rumors already spreading through the city.
Either way, avoiding him will not work any longer.
“Set the meeting,” I say.
Lucas observes me. “You sure?”
“Not even close, but some decisions aren’t optional,” I reply.