The God of war They Burned Is Back

Forty Million Reasons

Warren, shaken and desperate, stammered. “I’ll—I’ll find it. A jewelry box. I know antique dealers, collectors—I can get you one. White porcelain, you said? With violets? I’ll—”

“It had better be the right one,” Callum said coldly.

Warren nodded frantically, backing away until he hit the marble column again.

Callum turned his attention back to the ballroom’s destruction. Guards lay scattered. Desmond’s blood pooled on the floor. Through the shattered glass wall, Silas’s unconscious form was visible on the observation deck.

The Maestro’s Ball had become a graveyard.

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Upstairs, in a private lounge far from the chaos below, crystal chandeliers cast warm light over expensive furniture and silk wallpaper. The room was quiet, insulated, elegant.

Evangeline Mercer sat in a high-backed chair, her posture perfect, her smile practiced. She was Octavia’s younger sister—fifty-two, silver-haired, with the same sharp features and calculating eyes. She wore a burgundy evening gown and pearls.

Across from her sat the Castellan family.

Mr. Castellan—mid-fifties, dignified, with graying temples and worry lines deepening around his eyes. He wore an expensive suit that couldn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders.

Mrs. Castellan—elegant, quiet, her hands folded in her lap. She watched her daughter with barely concealed anxiety.

And Briar Castellan—twenty-four, dark hair swept into an updo, wearing a pale blue dress that made her look like she was drowning in fabric. She sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her jaw tight, her eyes distant.

“It’s a wonderful alliance,” Evangeline was saying, her voice smooth and persuasive. “The Mercer empire—old music, classical tradition, global influence. The Castellan legacy—theater, performance art, cultural heritage. Together, you’ll be unstoppable.”

Mr. Castellan nodded eagerly. “We’re honored, truly. The Mercer name carries such weight—”

“And the Castellan name brings prestige,” Evangeline interrupted smoothly. “This isn’t charity, Mr. Castellan. This is partnership.”

Briar’s hands clenched tighter.

“I do apologize that Octavia and Lucian are abroad on business,” Evangeline continued. “They would have loved to be here for the engagement announcement. But someone had to host tonight’s ball, so here we are.”

Mrs. Castellan smiled weakly. “We understand. Business comes first.”

“Indeed.” Evangeline’s eyes shifted to Briar. “And you, my dear. You’ve been so quiet. Surely you’re excited?”

Briar’s jaw worked. “Of course.”

The words came out flat and unconvincing.

Mr. Castellan leaned forward, his voice dropping to something firm. “Briar. Smile. This is your engagement night.”

Briar forced her lips upward. It looked painful.

Evangeline pretended not to notice. “Desmond is a wonderful young man. Passionate about music, cultured, well-connected. You’ll want for nothing.”

“I’m sure,” Briar said quietly.

Mr. Castellan’s voice took on an edge. “This marriage will erase our family’s debts, Briar. Forty million dollars in loans, will be forgiven. The theater saved. Our legacy preserved. You understand what that means?”

Briar’s fingers dug into her palms hard enough to leave marks. “I understand.”

She understood perfectly. Her dreams of performing independently—of traveling, of choosing her own path—were dissolving. Traded for her family’s survival.

Forty million dollars. That’s what Desmond had offered. That’s what she was worth.

Mrs. Castellan reached over and squeezed Briar’s hand. “It’s for the best, darling. You’ll see.”

Briar said nothing.

Evangeline raised her champagne glass. “To new beginnings—”

The lounge door burst open.

A guard stumbled in, breathless, his face pale. His uniform was disheveled, his radio crackling with panicked voices.

“Mrs. Mercer!” he gasped. “There’s—downstairs—an intruder—”

Evangeline’s smile vanished. “What are you talking about? Security should have—”

“He’s defeated Silas Grave!” the guard blurted out. “And Mr. Desmond is injured—badly—there’s blood everywhere, the ballroom is destroyed—”

Evangeline stood so quickly her champagne glass fell and shattered. “What?”

“A man. One man. He—” the guard struggled for words, “—he took down thirty guards. Broke Silas’s ribs. Threw him through a glass wall. Desmond’s unconscious, maybe worse—”

The color drained from Evangeline’s face.

Mr. Castellan stood, confusion and alarm mixing on his features. “Who could possibly—in Mercer Tower—”

“I don’t know, sir! He just, he’s still down there—”

Guests in the lounge began murmuring, confused and frightened.

Evangeline moved toward the door, her composure cracking. “Take me there. Now.”

The Castellans followed. Mrs. Castellan grabbed Briar’s arm, pulling her along.

But Briar’s curiosity was already piqued. Who could challenge the Mercers in their own tower? Who could defeat Silas Grave—the legendary enforcer everyone whispered about?

They moved through the corridor toward the grand staircase. Evangeline in the lead, the guard beside her, the Castellans following.

Briar’s parents called after her to stay close, but she was already moving ahead, her heels clicking rapidly on marble.

She reached the balcony first, and froze.

The ballroom below was ruins. Broken glass everywhere, overturned tables, guards lying motionless or groaning in pain. The champagne fountain shattered. Blood on the floor.

In the center of it all stood a man, tall with dark hair, dressed in a black suit and holding a wine glass as if he were at a casual dinner party instead of a war zone.

Briar’s heart stopped.

She knew that stance. The way he held himself was still, contained, and dangerous. He moved precisely,

Three years ago, on a dark road, armed men attacked. Her father was bleeding, and a figure in black appeared from nowhere and saved them both.

She’d never seen his face clearly. Never learned his name.

But she’d never forgotten him.

“It’s him…” she whispered.

Then she was running.

Down the grand staircase, her dress bunching in her hands, her heels loud against marble. Behind her, her parents shouted her name. Evangeline turned in shock.

But Briar didn’t stop.

The crowd gasped as she descended rapidly toward the man standing in the ruined ballroom.