Persis didn’t wait for a second invitation. She stepped into the changing room, the door clicking shut behind her.She stripped off the robe, her skin still prickling from the morning chill, and pulled on the high-compression tactical leggings and charcoal-gray racerback tank Tedmond had prepared. She tied her hair into a knot so tight it pulled at her scalp, then faced the mirror. The bruising on her wrists from the zip ties had faded into an ugly blend of yellow and purple, a map of her own helplessness.She traced the marks with her thumb, her expression hardening."Never again," she promised her reflection.She stepped back onto the mat, her bare feet silent on the high-density foam. Tedmond stood by the equipment rack, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. The trainer was already waiting, holding a pair of strike pads, but it was the third person in the room that made Persis stop dead.Leaning against a squat rack in the far corner, wearing a tactical hood

Persis didn't aim for the ribs this time. She didn't aim for the head. She went for the one thing Maya assumed she wouldn't: the space between them.She dropped low, her shoulder slamming into Maya’s hip with the frantic strength of someone fighting for air in a sinking car. It wasn't pretty. It wasn’t a move found in any textbook. It was a desperate, gravity-driven collision.Maya’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, the first hairline fracture in her professional mask. She hadn't expected the polished, high-society woman to throw herself into a dirty, shoulder-first tackle. Maya staggered, her heel catching the edge of the padded mat. For one glorious, impossible second, she lost her balance.Persis didn't let up. She scrambled over the trainer, fingers clawing at the rough fabric of Maya’s tactical vest, teeth bared in a snarl."I am not... a subject!" Persis hissed, her voice cracking as she swung a wild, frantic elbow.Crack.The sound of bone meeting a padded should

Persis paused, her wine glass hovering an inch from the table. "Which family are we starting with, Tedmond? If the Architect is gone to ground, who is left to bleed?"Tedmond set his glass down. He didn't answer immediately. "The families are different," he said finally.Persis waited."The Architect operated through them, but not with them. There's a distinction." He turned the glass once, a slow, deliberate rotation. "Some knew exactly what they were part of. Others used the same way everything else was used, as architecture. Structure. Load-bearing walls that didn't know they were holding up someone else's house.""So you're not going to move on all of them at once.""No.""Which one first?"Tedmond was quiet. The candlelight between them did what candlelight does: it made everything look warmer than it was, softening the edges of a conversation that had none."There's one," he said. "On the periphery. Adjacent rather than central. I've been watching their movements since the v

Daphne didn't flinch. She traced the rim of her gold-edged plate with a long, elegant finger."I think," she said softly, "that we are forgetting that Tedmond isn't the only Washington who has changed. Persis has been in the gym for a week. Maya doesn't train people to be subjects; she trains them to be executioners.”“If we abolish the rules now, we aren't just starting a war. We are removing the only leash that keeps Tedmond from burning the ports to the ground just to see the light.""The rules exist to protect the Architect," Cordelia snapped. "But the Architect hasn't sent a signal in forty-eight hours. We are holding a line for a man who might already be a ghost."Beatrix stood up. The movement was so fluid she seemed to simply lengthen."The rules will be abolished," Beatrix said, and the room went cold. "But not by us. We will let Tedmond do it. We will let him come here, alone, thinking he is the hunter.”“And while he is busy looking for coerced parties and evidence, we wil

Tedmond’s gaze turned serious, a slight frown touching his face. Though he knew the risks, he wasn't going to let the families walk over his own, begging for mercy. He was beginning to wonder if this entire cycle of violence had been fueled by the lack of a true successor in the past. He was determined to settle the score before Bianca reached adulthood or he had children of his own."I know it’s dangerous, Thomas," Tedmond said, finally meeting the old man’s eyes. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face, a look of pure, unadulterated mischief that didn't belong on a man of his standing."That’s exactly why I’m going. They spent years hiding in the shadows of the Mediterranean, playing God with my mother's life. Now, they’ve invited the devil to their dinner table because they think they can control the seating chart."He let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "They think they’ve invited a guest. They don't realize they’ve invited the consequence."Persis stepped forward,