"That has to change," Carol accused him, shocking the room into awkward silence. "You cannot run a city in America illegally like a dictator. You must resign."All eyes turned to Victor to see his reaction to Carol's straightforward insult. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced on the table, completely unfazed by the direct challenge.He met her gaze steadily, and a faint confident smile touched his lips, as if he had anticipated every word she would say."With all due respect, Carol," he began like a teacher correcting a misunderstanding. "Springfield operates under full legal authority of the United States. It was declared a special military zone by a direct Presidential order months ago."Victor brandished a framed document that an attendant quickly brought to him. "This decree came straight from the Oval Office, recognizing the unique threats we faced and the need for streamlined governance. It's not illegal if it's sanctioned at the highest level. Do you claim to ha

"How can that be possible?" Kate whispered, her voice barely above the evening breeze. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Victor."Are you serious? If Charles Wheeler died in that explosion years ago, how is he standing here, alive, giving speeches and running the country? Are you sure the information wasn't a mistake?"Victor turned away from the fading sunset, his expression grave. The city lights below were starting to twinkle like distant stars. He leaned back against the balustrade, folding his arms as if holding in the weight of what he'd just revealed. "The information is authentic. As far as how Wheeler cheated death is concerned, I don't know yet. Resurrection like this, that is, coming back from a confirmed death, would require something beyond ordinary medicine.""It would either be very advanced science, or perhaps experimental tech we've only heard whispers about, or," he paused before adding, "something supernatural."Kate opened her mouth to scoff. The word "supernatur

The large screen above the podium flickered to life, its pixels resolving into bold white text on a deep blue field: VICTOR CROMWELL.Victor had won the mayoral election by a narrow margin! A wave of cheers surged from one section of the hall, people raising their hands, waving flags, and calling out his name."Victor! Victor!""We love you, Mayor Cromwell!"The opposing side offered only scattered applause, quiet conversations, and a few shaken heads. Victor's retinue, positioned near the stage, exchanged subtle nods as relief settled over them.Carol watched from her spot, her face tightening as the announcement registered. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she pressed her lips together in a firm line.Charles stood beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in with a gentle pull. She leaned against him, her attention still fixed forward on the stage, though her fingers twisted lightly at the fabric of her sleeve.Victor climbed the steps to the podium with steady

"A duel," Victor repeated flatly. "Father and son on a rooftop, winner takes Springfield. And if you lose, what do I collect? Your corpse?"Charles spread his hands, all easy charm. "The satisfaction of beating your own blood isn't enough?""I don't fight for satisfaction." Victor's voice was ice over deep water. "You want my city. Then stake something I want. Carol Atelier—the real one. Alive, unharmed, released the moment you fall. Otherwise, there is no duel. I'll simply walk out of this room, and you can explain to the Puppetmaster why his little theater production closed on opening night."Sophia's head snapped toward her son. "Charles, no. She is our only—"Charles silenced her with a raised finger, never taking his eyes off Victor. His smile widened, slow and delighted, like a boy who'd just been handed a better toy."Done," he said. "When I win, the city kneels to me. If you somehow win, dear Carol comes home to you. You have my word.""Your word." Victor's lip curled. "Proof

Charles leaned in, voice dropping into something warm and poisonous. "You thought you were spying on him, little bird. You were being collected.""You're lying," Kate rasped. Her voice came out broken and small, and she hated it, hated that the words landed somewhere soft and unguarded in her chest. "The Mayor doesn't—he doesn't know anything.""Mm. Hold that thought." Charles glanced at his watch, still holding her over the drop as casually as a grocery bag."We have forty minutes, and I confess I hadn't planned an appetizer, but you'll do beautifully. I'm going to break you—slowly, the joints first, nothing fatal—and I'm going to arrange you right here on the platform so that when Father arrives for our little duel, the first thing he sees is what's left of you. I want to see his face when he understands the evening's tone."He said it the way other men discussed dinner reservations. That, more than the pain, more than the drop below her, was the moment true fear closed around Kate'