Dawn broke like a blade through storm clouds.
The city beneath Graze Tower stirred uneasily, as if it sensed something was coming. The streets were emptier than usual, the air heavier. A strange quiet before the inevitable storm.
Hazel stood in front of the war room table, a map of the city spread before her. Red pins marked Roman's known territories, blue for Graze-controlled zones. The problem was the scattered black marks — unknowns. New players. Rogue allies.
"It's not just Roman anymore," Connor muttered, rubbing his jaw. "He's rallying what's left of the Crowe loyalists. And word is… he's got someone backing him."
Hazel's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Connor hesitated.
Michael entered, dressed in black, every inch the storm she'd fallen for.
"They call her The Widow," he said grimly. "No one's seen her face. But wherever she moves, men disappear. Rumor says she was Crowe's partner. More dangerous than he ever was."
Hazel stiffened. "Then we cut off the snake's head before she strikes."
Michael's lips curved into a dark smile. "That's my girl."
Later — The Final Plan
In the penthouse, Hazel and Michael mapped out every move, every backup plan, and every betrayal they could anticipate.
Hazel pointed to an abandoned railway yard. "Roman will expect us at Graze docks. We strike here."
Michael nodded. "We use the docks as a decoy. Connor moves in with half our men. The rest follow me to the yard. Hazel, you stay behind."
Hazel bristled. "Like hell."
Michael cupped her face, voice low. "I just got you back. I'm not risking you."
She met his gaze fiercely. "I'm not some fragile trophy, Michael. I'm the reason this war isn't already lost."
For a second, the old fire flashed between them. Then Michael sighed, letting his forehead rest against hers. "You'll be at my side, then."
"Always."
Midnight — The Railway Yard
The air reeked of rust, oil, and old blood. Fog curled between the tracks, thick and blinding.
Hazel gripped her dagger in one hand, gun in the other, Michael's figure a dark sentinel beside her. Connor and the strike team flanked them in silence.
Then, from the shadows — a single figure stepped forward.
Roman Crowe.
But it wasn't his confidence Hazel noticed. It was the woman beside him.
Tall. Veiled. And when she spoke, her voice was silk-wrapped steel.
"Hello, Hazel."
Hazel's blood ran cold.
The voice was achingly familiar.
Hazel narrowed her eyes. "Take off the veil."
The woman chuckled and did.
Hazel's heart stopped.
"Charlotte."
Michael's head snapped toward her. "Who the hell is—?"
"My aunt," Hazel whispered.
Charlotte Crane, her father's estranged sister. The one who vanished twenty years ago. The one her father swore was dead.
Michael swore. "You're The Widow."
Charlotte's smile was venom. "Family always bleeds you the deepest."
Roman's grin widened. "Surprise."
Before Michael or Hazel could react, gunfire exploded around them.
Connor shouted, "Ambush!"
Men poured from the shadows. Hazel ducked a shot, rolled behind a rusted train car, and fired back.
"Michael!" she screamed.
He was already moving — a shadow in the chaos, cutting down Crowe's men with ruthless efficiency.
Hazel caught sight of Charlotte, slipping through the smoke.
Not this time.
She chased her through the maze of abandoned train cars, heart pounding. Metal groaned beneath her boots, the air thick with smoke and gunfire.
At last — a clearing.
Charlotte stood waiting, blade drawn.
"You ruined everything, Hazel."
"You tried to murder me in my mother's house," Hazel spat.
"I was meant to inherit this empire. Your father stole it. And then you… you were never supposed to survive."
Hazel circled her. "Guess I'm stubborn like that."
The fight was swift, brutal. Blades clashed, sparks flying. Charlotte was fast, but Hazel was faster.
Years of hatred fueled every strike.
And when Hazel drove her dagger into Charlotte's chest, it wasn't rage she felt.
It was peace.
Charlotte's final words were a whisper. "You… were always my blood."
Hazel watched the light fade from her aunt's eyes.
Then Roman's voice called through the darkness. "Hazel!"
She turned.
Michael held Roman at gunpoint, bloodied but standing tall.
"It's over, Crowe," Michael growled.
But Roman, ever the snake, smiled.
"I always knew you'd kill me, Graze. But you'll never be free."
Michael fired.
A single shot. Straight to the heart.
Roman dropped.
And just like that — the war was over...