Chapter Twenty-Six
Nikolai
[Night of the election]
Cassidy’s knee bounces against the couch, her grip tight around the stem of her wine glass. “This is too close. I hate it.”
Dawn shifts beside her, her own glass barely touched as she watches the TV screen. “It’s been like this all night.”
The last few counties are still reporting. The margins keep shifting, tightening, holding. The news anchors fill the space with speculation, scrolling through district maps, replaying exit poll analysis.
Cassidy exhales sharply. “I swear, if it flips in the last second, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Dawn doesn’t blink, her fingers tapping against the couch. “It won’t.” She says it like it’s a fact.
I lean back into my chair, adjusting my glass in my hand, placing an ankle over my knee. “Final precincts should be in soon.” My voice is calm, even.
Neither of them looks at me, too focused on the numbers.
Good.
I keep my expression neutral, keep my posture relaxed, but internally, I am far from calm. I have no idea what’s coming. And that’s the problem. My father has said nothing. No interference. No last-minute maneuvering. No carefully planted disaster to push the race in the other direction.
That doesn’t mean he’s done. It means he doesn’t need to do anything. And I don’t know why.
I take another slow sip of whiskey, letting the burn cut through the tension settling in my chest, but it doesn’t help.
Cassidy groans, gripping Dawn’s arm. “Come on. Just call it already!”
The anchor is still dragging out the last county report, zooming in on district numbers, breaking down voter patterns.
Then—
“We can now project Luke Carter as the winner of the California gubernatorial race.”
Cassidy lets out a sharp breath, then a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. She squeezes Dawn’s knee. “Holy shit! He actually did it.”
Dawn exhales hard, giving the biggest smile I’ve seen on her face in weeks.
It’s instant. Real. She looks at the screen, at the flashing banner, Governor-Elect Luke Carter, and finally lets herself believe it.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, covering her mouth for half a second before laughing. “He did.”
Cassidy grins, nudging her. “I knew he could do it.”
Dawn actually laughs. Light and genuine. She picks up her glass and takes a sip, like she’s finally drinking to celebrate—not just to unwind.
I lift my glass and take a sip of my own. The whiskey burns warm down my throat, but the tension in my chest stays ice cold.
The anchors are already breaking it all down—how Luke outperformed in key counties, how this win will shift power in California, how historic this moment is.
Cassidy is caught up in it, already rattling off thoughts, half-talking to Dawn, half-talking to herself.
I don’t hear a word. I only hear the questions in my own head. The silence from my father. Blackthorn doesn’t let things happen without a plan. Blackthorn doesn’t lose.
So why did he let this happen?
The anchors are still talking when my attention returns to the TV, breaking down the details of the win until the screen shifts. Luke is stepping up to the podium.
Dawn leans forward slightly, hands wrapped around her wine glass, eyes locked on the screen. She’s glowing, completely in the moment.
Cassidy smiles, grabbing Dawn’s hand. “Your brother is about to be the most powerful man in California. Weird flex.”
Dawn huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Shut up.”
Luke looks exhausted, but steady. The weight of the night is on his shoulders, but he carries it well. His tie is loosened, sleeves pushed up, but his presence is charismatic and electric. He’s seemed to always have that about him—a way of making people trust him. Believe in him.
“Thank you,” Luke starts, gripping the edges of the podium. “Thank you to the people of California for believing in me, for giving me this opportunity to serve you.”
Applause rattles through the crowd.
Cassidy raises her glass. “To Luke.”
Dawn clinks hers against Cassidy’s. She’s smiling fully, like the weight of everything has finally lifted.
The speech continues—Luke thanking his team, his supporters, his friends and family. His voice carries strength, warmth and certainty. He’s exactly what people want in a leader.
I swirl the last of my whiskey, watching Dawn instead of the screen. I wish I could share in her lighthearted joy. After the speech is over, she doesn’t hesitate before grabbing her phone and dialing.
Luke picks up after a few rings. “Hey!”
Dawn grins. “Governor Carter.”
He chuckles, “That’s weird as hell, huh?”
Cassidy leans over, laughing. “Tell him we’re drinking in his honor.”
Luke chuckles, his voice scratchy with exhaustion. “I’m pretty sure my team is already drunk for me.”
The energy in the room is different now—lighter, easier. The tension from earlier is completely gone.
I take another slow sip. I don’t trust this. She’s letting her guard down, and so is Luke.
The silence from my father still lingers in the back of my head, pressing down like a weight I can’t shake.
The girls laugh for a while after Luke gets off the phone, their energy finally relaxed and light, the weight of the last few weeks lifting with every glass of wine. Cassidy’s voice rises animatedly as she recounts something from earlier in the night. Dawn leans into her, smiling.
They aren’t guarded now. They aren’t tense. I don’t interrupt. I just watch.
Eventually, Cassidy stretches, leaning back into the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’m tapping out. I need sleep.”
Dawn nudges her. “You say that like you did anything exhausting.”
Cassidy lifts her wine glass. “This was an emotional rollercoaster, okay?” She sets the empty glass down and rubs her face. “And you should sleep, too. You look like you’ve just survived a war.”
Dawn just laughs softly, shaking her head. She leans back into the couch, watching the replay of Luke’s victory speech on the TV. The warmth in her expression hasn’t faded. She really believes everything is over.
I swirl my glass, watching her.
I don’t.
Dawn shifts slightly, stretching her legs out, then turns to me. Her brilliant, blue eyes flick over my face, assessing. “You’re really not going to relax, are you?”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face, giving her a soft smile. “Not tonight.”
She rolls her eyes, setting her empty glass down on the coffee table. “Well, I am.” She stands, stretching, completely at ease. Completely unaware.
The two of them make their departure toward the bedrooms, already half-asleep as they disappear down the hall and up the stairs.
I don’t move. I stare at the screen, watching Luke shake another hand, cameras flashing around him. The feeling in my chest doesn’t ease.
I lift my glass, drain the last of the whiskey, then set it down harder than I mean to.
His silence isn’t reassuring. It’s a warning.