“That’s the last of them,” said a voice at his shoulder. One of Farrow’s people, a woman with short black hair, brown eyes, and a balaclava covering the rest of her face. “All sectors report clear.”

Jameson nodded, checking the time on his comms unit. 7:02 AM. Eleven hours until the real fight began, but their work had started long before dawn. Through the night, his rebels had moved through the Boundary, guiding people to the shelters he’d been reinforcing for years. The operation had gone more smoothly than he’d dared hope.

The Cardinal had been easier to manage, less people with more of a willingness to listen to authority. Courtesy of the Heart’s labor mandates pushed on them.

“Any trouble at the eastern quadrant?” he asked, remembering the factory overseer who’d threatened to report them to the Veyra. The man hadn’t lived long enough to make good on his threat, but Jameson needed to be sure no alarm had been raised.

“None,” she replied. “We’re clear across the board.”

His mind flashed to the mother in the Boundary, cradling her dead son as she begged Jameson to make them pay. Her face, contorted with grief, had haunted his dreams for the past three nights. Today, he would keep his promise to her. Today, Maximus Serel and his golden mask would fall.

He straightened his spine, turning to the woman. “What’s your name?”

“Chandler, sir, but my friends call me Hawk.”

A corner of his lip twitched up at the name. “Well, Hawk, if I don’t get time to tell you this later, thank you. We would not have been able to secure the Cardinal on time without you.”

“Yes, of course, sir. My honor.” He could see the smile in her eyes as he turned away from her.

“Signal the teams,” he said, already moving toward the maintenance access panel at the far end of the corridor. “We move in five.”

Hawk melted back into the shadows of the tunnels, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He crouched beside the panel, fingers working the encrypted lock Callum had reprogrammed days ago. The metal cover slid away with barely a whisper, revealing the dark tunnel beyond.

Shadera’s face slipped into his head, and the thought of what would happen to her today sent a surge of rage through his body so intense that his vision blurred at the edges. He’d heard enough at their last meeting of the Vow ceremony, and he could barely stomach it.

He forced the image away. Rage made men careless. Rage got men killed. And he couldn’t afford to die, not today. Not when she needed him.

His comms unit vibrated against his wrist. “Ghost,” Callum’s voice came through, low and distorted, “surveillance loop is active. Heart security is blind to the Cardinal sectors. You’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy that,” Jameson replied, adjusting the earpiece that would keep him connected to the rebel network throughout the day. “Moving to position alpha. What’s your status?”

“In place at the club. You have two hours to make it to the Heart before patrols start.”

“Understood,” Jameson answered as the line fell silent.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had settled there. Behind him, shadows had coalesced into people—his team assembling silently, their faces grim. One hundred men and women drawn from the most skilled soldiers from the Boundary and Cardinal, each armed with Veyra weapons provided by Mikel, smuggled piece by piece through Callum’s networks.

Each ready to die for the cause if necessary.

He could see the determination in their eyes, the readiness. Some bore fresh wounds from the Veyra clash days ago. Others carried older scars—the visible marks of Heart oppression etched into flesh and bone. All of them had lost something to Maximus’s regime. All of them had reason to fight.

Hawk snaked through the crowd until she was standing in front of Jameson, her mask pulled down now. A large scar cut from ear to ear on the bottom half of her face, a permanent smile he knew could have only been gifted to her by the Veyra.

It was their signature for women who’d refused to kneel to them, that refused to smile for them. If they would not do it on their own, the Veyra would do it for them.

“Farrow’s unit is in position,” she said, slipping onto his right side. “Says they’ve secured the access points to the power grid. They’ll cut it when the signal comes.”

Jameson nodded. “And Jaeger’s teams?”

“Already inside the Heart. Moved in during the night shift change.”

A small victory, but significant. If the Daggermouths were already in place, their chances improved considerably. The assassins would target key security points with snipers, eliminating resistance before it could organize against the main rebel force.

“Let’s move,” Jameson said, gesturing toward the tunnel. “Single file until we hit the first checkpoint.”

He climbed down the ladder first, cracking a glow light and hooking it to his belt, the rebels behind him mirrored his actions and they began their final trek toward the Heart.

His thoughts turned to Shadera again, as they always did in quiet moments. He missed her in a way that made it hard to breathe. Of course he missed the intimacy of her in his arms, of the feel of her skin against his, but that was the least of it. He missed his best friend.

She was his person before he’d ever truly fallen for her.

The simplicity of it made it even more honest. She was just his person, and he missed her.

For now, he would keep his unit safe. Stay focused on making sure they all made it into the Heart alive. But tonight, his only goal was to make sure Shadera made it out with her life.

Chapter thirty-five9 AM

Greyson’s head tilted up as the sound of boots filtered through the air. Slowly, one by one, Veyra came into view and lined the wall on the other side of the cell as Mikel followed them into the room. Greyson knew it was him just by the way he stood. He hesitated at the entrance for only a second before falling in line with his men.

His father stepped through the doorway next and Greyson stared at him, refusing to lower his gaze. A fresh wave of hate threatened to choke him.

“Good morning.” Maximus’s voice was pleasant, almost cheerful. “I trust you’ve had time to reflect on our conversation.”

Greyson said nothing. His silence was all he had left—the only defiance he could muster while bound to the chair.

Maximus punched a code into the cell door and it slid open with a hiss. Goosebumps spread over Greyson’s skin at the sudden stream of warm air and relief crashed over his body. The door was open. One step closer to getting out of this fucking cell.

“Today is a joyous day.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Your ceremony begins in three hours. Captain Mikel will be escorting you and your intended back to your quarters to prepare for this magnificent union.”

Greyson’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

“Remember our agreement,” Maximus continued, stepping closer to Greyson’s chair. Close enough that he could smell the expensive cologne that clung to his suit, a scent that had haunted his nightmares since childhood. “You will participate fully. You will speak the words as written. You will smile.” He leaned down, his golden mask inches from Greyson’s face. “And you will consummate the Vow, as tradition demands.”

Bile rose in Greyson’s throat. The consummation—the final, degrading requirement of the Vow ceremony.

Still, Greyson stayed silent.

“I only came to wish my son luck on the most important day of his life,” Maximus said, turning back toward the door. “Remember, your cooperation today decides the fates of many.”

He didn’t say another word as he strode from the cell, passing Mikel. Mikel’s faceplate followed the President until he disappeared through the outer door, then his head turn back to Greyson.

“Remove his restraints,” Mikel ordered the officers. “Then bring out the Daggermouth.”