The Black Mercury members stand in a half-circle. No one breathes louder than necessary.

  At the center, The Alligator Jacob sits, one leg crossed over the other, fingers resting lightly against the arm of his chair. His gaze holds on Shion—not burning. Measuring.

  “Samuel,” he says quietly, extending his hand. “The letter.”

  Samuel steps forward, boots whispering against stone, and places it in his palm. The paper crinkles sharply in the still air. The Alligator smooths it with a thumb, deliberate, unhurried.

  “An invitation from Tarri. Silas’s third Warlord.” His eyes move across the ink as though tasting it.

  “Invitation to the Queen herself—the Crocodile’s Smile, conqueror of the River. Come to Tarri’s fortress by morning. Follow Supintas Lake. One kilometer straight. My fortress awaits.”

  Silence stretches, thick as stone.

  He lowers the letter. “At least, sending Shion was not a wasted decision.”

  A faint draft slips through the room, unnoticed by most but not him.

  “We will all attend. Our purpose is simple. We clarify why we came.”

  “But boss,” K.B says carefully, “we don’t know if it’s a trap.”

  The Alligator’s lips curve faintly—not a smile, not quite. “If it is, we will know early.” His eyes sweep the room, measuring. “We walk straight into it. Let them try.”

  He folds the letter and sets it aside. The wood thumps quietly.

  “Nina,” he calls, voice cooling.

  Nina steps forward, heels tapping.

  “Boss.”

  The Alligator studies her like a sculptor examining marble. “When I ordered you to kill the girl… where were we?”

  “At the coffee shop, sir.”

  “Good.”

  A pause.

  “Did you know why I asked that?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Because that order was given privately.”

  His gaze does not move to Patience. It drifts around her—sensitive to the space she occupies, to the life she carries.

  “Then why is she still standing?”

  The room shrinks.

  “Shion stopped me,” Nina says. “Senior K.B intervened.”

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  The Alligator turns to K.B. “And you?”

  “I wasn’t aware it was private. I saw conflict. I acted.”

  The Alligator exhales softly. A sound like air escaping a hidden chamber. “That explains it.”

  His eyes return to Shion. “Shion,” he says. “You interfered with my instruction.”

  Shion lowers her gaze. Silence answers him.

  Maxwell steps behind Patience. The cold iron of his muzzle presses lightly against the girl’s ribs.

  “Master, say the word.”

  Patience gasps—a short, sharp intake that seems to shake the room.

  Shion shifts. Just slightly. Weight adjusting. Fingers tense. Fear flickers in her eyes before the mask returns.

  The Alligator leans back slowly, one finger tapping lightly against his jaw as he watches Shion.

  “Hm…” he murmurs. “Interesting.”

  He lets the silence stretch, just long enough for everyone to feel it.

  Then—

  “Samuel.”

  “Sir.”

  “Scout Tarri’s fortress. Full report. Nothing missed. Return before morning. We leave together.”

  “Understood.”

  Samuel melts into shadow.

  The Alligator rises. The shift in height subtly rearranges the room’s gravity.

  “From this moment,” he says, voice steady, clear, carrying the weight of command, “this young lady is an official member of Black Mercury.”

  The words land like stones in still water.

  “She remains under my supervision. I will personally ensure her safety.”

  A ripple of shock moves through the room. Maxwell lowers his gun.

  “K.B,” he calls. “Evaluate her value.”

  “She lacks combat capability. However, her presence—”

  “Enough,” The Alligator interrupts.

  “Ellen.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Prepare a uniform.”

  Ellen nods slowly, studying Patience with new calculation.

  The Alligator turns back to Shion. “How are your wounds?”

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  He steps closer. “You are not. And I prefer honesty from my strongest.”

  Shion stiffens.

  “I would leave you behind. But the invitation names you. Therefore, you attend.”

  He shifts slightly. “Maxwell.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “You are Shion’s personal guard tomorrow. Do not fail.”

  “Understood.”

  Only then does the Alligator look at Patience directly. His tone softens—not warmth, but civility.

  “What is your name?”

  “Patience.”

  “Patience,” he repeats. “A name that survives storms.” A slight nod. “You are welcome here.”

  Not a smile. But not cruelty either. The matter is settled.

  KING PIN'S FORTRESS

  Stone walls. Torchlight flickers. Twelve figures gather in uneven formation.

  At the center stands King Pin—eye patched, red coat draped across his shoulders like a banner of authority.

  “Venus,” he says. “You’re certain the girl survived?”

  Venus bares his teeth. “I am certain. Someone intervened. Highly skilled. My men were erased.”

  King Pin’s gaze sharpens. “And yet you stand.”

  “I escaped. Shadow movement.”

  A pause.

  “The legend of Aizwatch That Walks in the Shadows…” he murmurs. “Why visit my fortress?”

  Venus’s fist tightens. “She crippled my forces.”

  King Pin tilts his head. “Then she remains in town.”

  A younger voice rises. King Pin's advisor. “Boss.”

  King Pin glances over. “Speak.”

  “Tarri has sent invitations across the town. He’s searching for the Crocodile woman. Hoping one reaches her.”

  King Pin’s expression shifts. “What does it say?”

  “It calls her to Tarri’s fortress.”

  “And how,” King Pin asks slowly, “did Tarri know she was here?”

  “Guests may have talked,” Venus says.

  “Or someone listened,” the advisor adds.

  King Pin steps forward. “You used her code name?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence. Then a quiet chuckle.

  “So,” King Pin says, “Tarri invites my enemy into his territory.”

  His smile fades. His gaze shifts to the boy. “What do you suggest?”

  “We strike the fortress by morning.”

  “Why morning?”

  “It’s the meeting hour.”

  King Pin considers. “And you believe she’ll come?”

  “If she has unfinished business… yes.”

  “Venus,” King Pin says, voice sharpening. “Can we overwhelm her?”

  “She is dangerous,” Venus admits. “But not against all of us. Unless the hunter who intervened returns.”

  King Pin’s eye darkens. “I do not care.”

  His voice drops lower. “Padma.”

  “Sir.”

  “Gather the assassins. Mercenaries. Everyone.”

  He turns toward the firelight. “Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “legends are corrected. Tarri will learn his place. And the Crocodile woman…” His lips thin. “…will learn who truly rules this river.”