Chapter 13: Tethers Snap
983 AN
Sep 15
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[POV: Smeech]
Smeech slammed the ledger shut. The numbers didn't lie.
Loan returns were stalling. Half of Brinehook hadn't paid their dues, and two of his debt collectors hadn't reported back since sunrise. One of his older runners, Gult, muttered something about a food line and Ashryn's name.
Smeech grunted. "They'd rather lay bricks than pay respect."
No response. Even his enforcers were quiet these days.
He lit a cig, gritting his teeth as he stared at the smoke coils. It wasn't fear. It was... erosion. A slow rot eating his grip on the streets.
Ashryn didn't just kill rivals. She replaced them. With wages, food, housing. People who had once crawled to him now stood taller elsewhere.
"She doesn't bleed you," he muttered. "She starves you."
He needed Margot to move. Soon. Together, they could box her in, force her hand.
But Margot hadn't answered his last message.
He stood by the cracked window of his old stronghold and watched the streets below. Normally this hour pulsed with debt runners, collectors, and bruisers hauling slow payers to the alleys. Now? Laughter from a soup line. A crew cleaning gutter pipes wearing Ashryn's crest. He wanted to snarl—but couldn't even muster rage.
"What the hell are you building, girl?" he whispered.
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[POV: Cael]
Ashryn's map board was full of pins and red thread. Cael tapped a few with the tip of a pen.
"Smeech's routes?"
Callum nodded. "Intercepted. Our crews replaced the courier boys. Word on the street is they never saw it coming."
Cael allowed himself a small grin. "One more week, he won't be able to fund a street brawl."
Below them, Strath's warehouse pulsed with quiet activity. Ashryn's early pay-day scheme was working. People lined up to work for wages instead of extortion.
"People want to believe in something," Cael muttered. "Even if it's just a steady job."
He'd know. He'd once believed in Smeech.
Callum leaned against the wall. "My boys picked up some of Margot's girls sniffing around Dockside. We gave 'em tea, not threats. Just let 'em see the quiet stalls, the empty cots, the fresh food. They'll talk."
"And the credit runners?"
"We broke the lines. Two of his banking middlemen flipped. Got 'em working to reroute deposits into our merchant shells. They don't even know the names on the paperwork."
Cael whistled. "That's cold."
Callum smirked. "She told me to box them. I'm boxing."
Cael checked a smaller map rolled into the side cabinet—one detailing the sewer grids and vent paths. "We'll need to cut off Smeech's last fallback—the merchant row tunnels. That's where he'll run supplies once he's out of footmen."
Callum nodded. "We've got that covered. I've got kids from the pit setting charges near the exits. If he tries to move crates, they'll end up with broken ankles."
Cael clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Teach them young."
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[POV: Lynne]
"We cut her voice," Lynne said.
Ashryn looked up from her soup. "Say again?"
"Margot runs on stories. On seduction. On image. If the girls start whispering about better stalls, safer housing, fairer pay, that image cracks."
Ashryn swallowed her spoonful. "So you're leaking the truth?"
"And some juicy exaggerations. A little scandal helps."
The two shared a smile.
Lynne had already flipped three of Margot's mid-tier hostesses by offering them stall licenses and guaranteed security under Ashryn's crest. Not soldiers. Traders. But they spoke with other women, and they spoke fast.
One of them had even run her own safehouse by the docks.
"She's not bleeding yet," Lynne said. "But she will."
Ashryn rose, grabbed her coat, and threw it over her shoulders with a grin. "Then let's give her a papercut that won't stop leaking."
Later that day, Lynne met a contact in an alley stall who handed her a bundle of letters. Letters meant for Margot's key clients—copies of which had found their way into Ashryn's hands. Enough for blackmail, leverage, or quiet persuasion.
Back at the clock tower, she placed them on Ash's desk with a smirk.
"Careful," she said. "Some of these are steamy."
Ashryn raised an eyebrow. "Scandal or drama?"
Lynne shrugged. "Both. Want me to choose targets?"
Ashryn leaned back. "No. Let them leak. Natural decay's more convincing than sabotage."
---
[POV: Ashryn]
Ashryn stood on the scaffolding overlooking a small plaza that used to house one of Renni's drop points. Now it bustled with people—vendors stacking crates, children eating stew, a forge grinding quietly.
Viktor walked up beside her. "We stabilized three more blocks. Finn's old quarter is requesting sanitation plans. Apparently, people want plumbing now."
Ash chuckled. "Revolutionary."
Lynne called from below. "Mathis's cousin defected from Margot. Brought ledgers."
Ashryn raised an eyebrow. "Bet that'll make for some fun pillow talk."
Cael approached, glancing at a small device on his wrist. "That's the fourth ledger this week. Margot's losing lieutenants faster than she's gaining clients."
Ash folded her arms. Her tone softened. "Let's keep eyes on the girls defecting. They're brave, but they've been through hell. We don't want to break them just to win."
Callum emerged from behind the wall, arms crossed. "Finn's old guildhouse? Fortified and cleared. Training cadets now."
"Name it yet?"
Callum hesitated. "Thinking something dumb like… the Grey Hall."
Ash lit up. "I love it. Terrible name. It's perfect."
Callum raised an eyebrow. "You're weird."
Ashryn winked. "I'm winning."
She looked over the city again. "We'll win this without a single fire lit. Let them burn themselves trying to stop us."
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[POV: Margot]
The ledger was cleaner than usual. That terrified her.
Income was still there, but soft. No new high-end bookings. No bribes paid in full. One of her top girls had left with a vague goodbye and a quiet smile.
She hadn't heard from Smeech since their meeting.
And now, she noticed it. Two of her best lieutenants hadn't checked in.
She went to pour another glass of wine. The bottle was empty.
The lounge felt colder tonight.
She looked at the cracked corner of her office mirror.
The girl in the reflection still wore silk, but the eyes were tired.
Then she turned to the shelf. One of the framed photos was missing.
She hadn't moved it.
"Where the hell are you, Mira?" she muttered.
Her voice trembled.
The cracked mirror caught the light from outside—faint and blue.
The net was closing.