The father and daughter who bore an uncanny resemblance to Zoe and Laurent met their end in an instant, silenced before a single cry could escape.
Erwin's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Now, only Zoe remains."
Laurent's hand flew to the window, his eyes bulging as he stared at the face that mirrored his own. His complexion drained to a ghostly pallor. Moments later, the bodies were carted away for disposal.
His throat worked silently, but no words came.
Erwin chuckled. "What a stroke of luck, Head of House Alva. Your untimely arrival has thrown a wrench into so many of my schemes. The Alva family was higher on my list than the Demoses, after all—you've always been masters at staying in the shadows. But I never dreamed you'd deliver yourself like this, complete with such a generous gift."
He beamed at Laurent.
Dealing with the Alvas this way had been pure serendipity for Erwin. He hadn't counted on anyone as shortsighted as Laurent, who had spilled so many secrets through Zoe in a fit of self-loathing. It handed Erwin the perfect leverage.
Laurent gazed down at the street below, then slumped to the floor in defeat. He knew he'd been outmaneuvered—crushed by his own arrogance. Yet he'd never imagined Erwin's cunning ran this deep. His own vaunted intellect now seemed like a child's game. Erwin pulled every string, orchestrating it all with effortless precision.
In hindsight, his earlier bravado felt utterly ridiculous.
Then, a memory struck him. He jerked his head up. "Head of House Cavendish, what do you really want? You've got everything locked down—why bother with me? What's your endgame?"
Erwin replied, "Sharp as ever, Head of House Alva. Truly wise."
Before today, Laurent might have preened at the praise. Now, coming from Erwin, it grated like nails on slate.
"The Alvas have performed admirably," Erwin continued. "With your rivals out of the picture, you should have full sway over the family now. So let's talk cooperation. I'll offer you two paths forward."
Laurent met Erwin's gaze, saying nothing, waiting.
"Option one: I fancy keeping pets, and the Alvas would make fine ones. When I move against the Demoses, I'll need hounds to lead the hunt. Plenty of you will fall, but Zoe survives. Option two: As of today, the eight great families shrink to six."
Laurent stared. He hadn't anticipated Erwin's reach extended this far. He aimed to seize the Alvas and the Conrads outright—no, not seize. Expend them as pawns.
And he stated it plainly: they were disposable.
Laurent's instincts screamed to refuse. After generations of Alva pride, how could he let it crumble on his watch? But Erwin's eyes held him fast, the refusal dying on his lips.
As pawns, survival was possible—even for Zoe in the worst case. Refuse, and they'd all perish today, Zoe included down the line.
He bowed his head. "I agree."
Erwin's smile widened. "Wise choice."
With a wave, he dismissed the room's occupants, leaving them alone.
Laurent pressed, "Aren't you worried this is all an act?"
Erwin said nothing, merely glancing toward Zoe on the street below.
The message was clear. Laurent rose, dropped to one knee, and took Erwin's shoe in his hands. "Laurent Alva pledges his loyalty to you."
Erwin nodded. "Excellent. You've got two months to consolidate the Alvas and the Conrads. Await my call."
Laurent inclined his head and retreated from the conference room backward, as protocol demanded.
Charlotte set a steaming teacup beside Erwin. "My lord."
He lifted it for a sip.
"Sir," she ventured, "shouldn't you brand him with the Dark Mark? What if he turns?"
Erwin shook his head. "He won't. Weaknesses like his ensure control. Besides, he hasn't long to live. The mark would be wasted. The Alvas dipped their toes in back then, however briefly—I won't forget."
Charlotte's pulse quickened. She hastened to reassure him. "My lord, during the crisis when your father lived, the Teresa family was under siege themselves. They couldn't have been involved."
Erwin hummed. "I know. Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing here."
A shiver ran through her. She ducked her head lower.
Erwin set the cup back on her outstretched tray. "Fetch Old Tom. Time's short; enough of these games."
She nodded and withdrew.
Soon, a soft knock echoed. Old Tom entered the office.
"Master, you summoned me."
Erwin turned. "Old Tom, where's the method for absorbing bloodlines?"
The question didn't faze him. He'd anticipated this—Erwin piercing the veil of their charade. Though unspoken, the signal was plain: the pretense ended now.
Old Tom bowed deeply. "In the Cavendish manor, there's a concealed chamber where the late master stored it. It holds fragments of our family history, a few curses, and the ritual for absorbing bloodlines."
Erwin's brow furrowed. "So you and Rivers are both Stewards' men?"
Old Tom nodded. "Yes, Master. When the old master devised his plan, he dispatched Rivers and me from England on errands. We were abroad and missed the events here."
"What errands?"
"The rest of the Stewards scattered into hiding after the old master vanished from the wizarding world. They aided him by gathering intelligence. But before your birth, Steward Manor fell under attack. Rivers and I were the only ones the old master left in the Muggle world; the others vanished. Over the years, we've pieced together that Solent likely captured them."
...
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