Classic's POV
I watched the hologram replay of the Grand Chamber's announcement from my underground chamber.
Chris had done it. He'd chosen Amara.
Declared her 02.
I should've seen it coming, but damn… it still hit like a shockwave.
Darius stood beside me, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"She said yes," I muttered, pacing. "He made her kneel—just like that. Sealed it with one command, one gesture."
"She's powerful," Darius replied. "But this? This changes the game."
I turned sharply. "Exactly. And Skylar…?"
He shook his head. "She'll take it as betrayal. Even if she's no longer 02, she believed she still had emotional leverage."
"She was wrong."
I looked around the room. My men—silent, watching. Loyal, deadly, and now waiting for my move.
"He still doesn't know we're backing him from the shadows," I said. "And I plan to keep it that way until the time is right. Until Skylar moves."
Darius nodded slowly. "You still want me in the shadows?"
"Stay close to Amara," I ordered. "She's blinded by loyalty, but she doesn't know who truly supports Chris. That ignorance protects our position. If Skylar plans to retaliate, we'll know through her first."
"And if Amara starts questioning?"
I gave a small, cold smile. "Then we remind her that in this empire, loyalty is currency… and secrets are the real crown."
I turned back to the hologram, rewinding the moment Chris placed his hand on Amara's head.
A new 02.
A new war.
And I, Classic Blackwood—04 of the Empire—would be the hand pulling strings from beneath the throne.