Lily was lost in a dream of kisses and whispered words of love as she and Charles watched the sunrise through the bay windows. Her husband leaned over her, his gray eyes alight with passion.

Then the sun sank back below the horizon and darkness cloaked them. Charles cried out as dark, shadowy hands pulled him from the bed and dragged him under the floor, which had become the surface of an icy river.

“Charles!” Lily screamed.

She bolted upright in the bed. The empty bed. Charles was gone.

Lily threw back the covers and glanced around the room. The fire had died in the hearth, and everything was quiet. Charles would never have left her, not tonight. Not while they all waited for Hugo to make his move. He had to have been taken. They all had.

But so soon? She had been sure he would wait at least a few days. Why now? No, the why didn’t matter. What mattered was where. She believed she knew where Hugo would take them. A place where he could arrange for privacy and have dramatic effect. A place where Charles would think he had a “fighting” chance.

The Lewis Street tunnels.

Lily’s hands shook as she rushed upstairs to her old room and dug around for Tom’s valet clothes. She needed the ease of her breeches and waistcoat to run. Then she pocketed the one thing she was certain she would need tonight and rushed from the room.

I always knew my time with him would be short, but I never believed I would have him for only a day. It isn’t enough.

Then she remembered her meeting with Ashton.

“It’s never enough when you are guided by love,” Ashton said. “But if you have the strength, you can save him. You can save all of them.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Including yourself.”

Ashton sighed heavily. “I do not enjoy playing Hugo’s games on his terms. I would take your place if I could, but I’m not the one who owns Charles’s heart.”

Lily nodded. “I understand.”

She still understood. She knew what she had to do.

Please don’t let me be too late.

Jonathan hid in the shadows of the tunnel entrance that fed into a large cavern with boxing rings. He’d had to evade some of Hugo’s men who were keeping away the riffraff, but that did not prove too difficult. Now he was watching Charles fighting for his life. And losing. Twice he had gone to the ground, and twice he had gotten back up.

With every punch Charles grew weaker. Blood trailed down his lower back, leaving a sickly crimson pattern on the floor as he fought Hugo. It was surprising to see Hugo fight. He was good, perhaps as good as Charles, but the injury to Charles’s back had made him weak. His sluggish steps and off-kilter feints weren’t working. Again he dropped to his knees. Hugo crowed and took a step back, taunting him to get back up.

Jonathan looked toward the cages. The League were watching, all of them silent. Jonathan checked each man over and froze at the sight of Godric, who had blood trickling down one side of his face from his temple.

Someone grabbed him from behind, taking his arm and pulling him back. He raised a fist to strike but halted when he saw Tom…or Lily dressed as Tom.

“What are you—?”

“There’s no time. I’m going to distract Hugo. Do nothing to interfere. No matter what happens, you must stay here. When you see an opportunity, set the others free, but do not try to leave the tunnels until it’s safe. Hugo’s men are still patrolling the surface. Do you understand?”

“How will I know when it’s safe?”

“When Hugo is gone.” It was all she said before she slipped back into the shadows.

Charles could barely breathe, his wound ached, and sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes, making them burn. Hugo’s fist connected with Charles’s jaw with a crack! and he fell onto his back. Again.

“That’s four!” Hugo said, triumphant. “Lucien’s life is now forfeit as well. Four falls, four lives. All you had to do was stay on your feet, Charles, and you couldn’t even do that. Now, let’s end this.”

Charles wasn’t sure he could get up this time. His arms were like lead, and his muscles were seizing. Blood rolled down his back, leaving the rest of him feeling cold, so damned cold. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Part of him wanted to just stay there on the ground, sucking in air until he could move again.

He looked toward his friends, all of them pressed against the bars. Ashton, Lucien, Godric, Cedric. They were all doomed. Because he’d failed them. Everything seemed to be slowing down. White dots colored his vision.

“Charles!” Lily’s face was suddenly over his, her cool fingers on his hot forehead. “You must get up,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear. “You must fight.”

Hugo grabbed Lily by the arm, dragging her up to her feet. “At last, my spy returns. Unexpected, but fortuitous. Did she tell you, Charles? She works for me.”

“Hugo, you don’t have to do this,” Lily said, pleading. “Has he not suffered enough?”

Hugo looked to Charles with a knowing smile. “What do you think, Charles? Have you?”

Charles had managed to roll over, and he was on his hands and knees now, blood pouring from his lip and pooling on the floor. “Don’t…” he gasped.

Hugo turned back to Lily. “My dear, I am glad you came, regardless of your true motives. I’m not angry with you for developing feelings for Charles. He is pitiable, I know. But you have done your job well, and I keep to my agreements. You will have your pension and your quiet life in the country.”

“I don’t want your money, you monster,” Lily spat.

Hugo ignored her. “And I will raise our daughter here in London. Give her a life you would never be able to. She will have privilege and status befitting a Waverly.”

Lily’s face drained in horror. “No… You can’t.”

Daniel approached, reaching out to take Lily away from the ring, but she stomped on his foot and struck his nose with the flat of her hand. With Daniel momentarily blinded, Lily reached into his waistband and took one of his pistols away, cocking it and aiming it at Hugo.

Hugo grabbed her arm and wrestled with her for control of the pistol. But she could not match Hugo’s strength as he bent the pistol around, turning it toward Lily’s chest.

Crack!

Charles’s heart stopped as Lily crumpled to the ground.

“No…”

Hugo tossed the spent pistol to the ground and advanced on Charles, murder in Hugo’s eyes. It was like Charles was back in the river, the dark water closing around his head, the heavy stones pulling him down. No one would come back this time. There were no more miracles left.

My world, my whole world is gone.

Black despair clawed at his chest, squeezing tight. He thought of Katherine, his child, motherless, to be taken in by Hugo and raised as his own. She needed him now more than ever.

Rage electrified his body, and he surged to his feet. A roar escaped his lips as he launched himself toward Hugo. Hugo stopped dead in his tracks. The rage Hugo had stored over the decades shrank and cowered in the face of Charles’s fury. Death itself had arrived, and in the face of it, Hugo Waverly did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

Charles bellowed in rage and chased after him. His boots were slick with his own blood, but he did not stumble across the rough stone floors. He sprinted after Hugo in the darkness, the intermittent torches offering glimpses of Hugo’s retreating form.

The ground began to rise beneath Charles’s feet as they moved upward. They were leaving the tunnels. Suddenly he and Hugo were outside, the freezing air cutting his breath off as he got his bearings. They were close to the Thames.

Hugo skidded down the icy bank, panting as he got ahead of Charles. The Thames looked solid, and Hugo dashed across the ice, Charles just behind him. Twilight bled over the wintry landscape ahead of him, creating eerie shadows from the figure just beyond his reach.

“Stop!” Charles shouted. Pain and rage filled him to the point where nothing else existed within him any longer. He was a beast driven only with one purpose: to kill the man he pursued.

The deafening sound of ice breaking was all around him, echoing across the Thames. Hugo stopped, his boots sliding on the ice. Charles did the same, listening for another warning sound, but he could see no obvious cracks.

“Not another step, brother,” Hugo warned, his voice firm and cold.

The rage within him came roaring back. “Brother? You dare call me that? You took everything from me. She was my world.” Charles’s fingers curled into fists. He dared not close his eyes. If he did, he would see her, his beautiful love, dying in front of him.

“It’s no less than you deserve. You took my world from me,” Hugo practically growled, and Charles saw the pain beneath Hugo’s icy glare. “You and your father destroyed my life.”

“He was your father too. He was trying to save you.” Save you from your hate. Like Peter.

“He left me to save myself,” Hugo said. “You are a disgrace.”

Charles kept his fury at bay. “I’ve never had a problem with the man I am, but you? You are a murderer. If we’re listing sins, yours will come first.” Charles took another step toward Hugo. This had to end. They could not go on like this.

“Murderer? How dare you—”

Crack! The ice broke, and Hugo cried out and plunged into the icy depths below.

“No!”

That should have been it. He should have moved back to where the ice was more solid, back toward the shore. But in that moment he pictured Hugo suffering the fate he’d feared for himself for so long, and what might have happened if Peter and Godric and Cedric and Lucien and Ashton had done nothing.

Charles rushed toward the hand sticking up from the break in the ice, but it gave way and he collapsed into the river as well.

Darkness, ice, and cold enveloped him. He could see another figure struggling in the murky depths. Charles reached for Hugo, his fingers brushing the tip of his shoulder, but the current was too strong.

We’re going to die.

Every nightmare he’d had since university was coming true. His lungs burned, and soon he would be inhaling water. It was the end, for both of them.

Hugo was close enough for Charles to see the puzzled look on his face. The question in his eyes.

Why?

Why try to save him now? Charles had no answer; he just knew he had to try.

And then Hugo’s mouth opened as if he’d had one final revelation. Air escaped as he choked, his pale face contorting as he drew in water. Charles feared he would not be far behind him.

It was always going to come to this. Death in the dark. And this time he had killed his own brother, his enemy, his blood. But the rage that had driven Hugo was one that could have consumed Charles had the duel gone differently. Everything would have been averted if he had not challenged Hugo’s father to a duel.

Perhaps he had been the villain of this story all along…

Charles moved his arms, frantically clawing toward the ice above him, trying to find the opening he’d fallen through. His eyes closed, and he stopped fighting. Lily’s face filled his mind.

I love you.

He’d be joining her soon. There was that to be thankful for. He felt his body flying toward a growing light, moving at a blinding speed, white and black flashing across his closed eyelids as he soared.

I’ll find you, Lily, I promise.

Icy cold pain exploded through him, and something hit his chest hard.

“Breathe! Breathe, you bastard!”

Charles coughed violently, panting and retching as he rolled onto his side. He was lying on the edge of the frozen river, twenty feet from where he’d fallen in. Godric. It had to be Godric. Or Lucien, perhaps. He was the stronger swimmer.

The man beside him was scowling, and when Charles’s hazy mind connected him with a name, he tried to attack the man.

“Stop, you fool. You’re too bloody weak,” Daniel snapped in irritation, holding Charles down until he stopped thrashing. “You’re welcome, Lonsdale.”

“Why?” Charles groaned as he forced his aching, freezing body to a sitting position.

“I owed Hugo everything. My oath of loyalty was one I could not break. But that loyalty died with him. Consider this my offer of a truce. I will see to it that no final orders are carried out posthumously on Hugo’s behalf. It is over.”

Daniel climbed to his feet and walked up the slope of the riverbank. He did not look back and soon vanished down a mews out of sight. Charles followed only until he saw his way back to the entrance of the Lewis Street tunnels.

Every stiff joint and bone cracked as he moved back through the stone passageways. The flow of blood from the wound to his back had slowed from the cold. He was numb, his thoughts trapped beneath a heavy cloud, but he knew he couldn’t give up. His friends still needed him, and Katherine still needed a father.

And Lily… He needed to hold her one last time.

With Hugo’s sentries gone, the tunnels were beginning to fill with its usual denizens. A few straggling pickpockets had already returned. Charles stumbled toward the group of men leaving the cells. Jonathan was there, unlocking the cell doors as fast as he could. No one spoke as Charles fell to his knees beside Lily’s body.

She wore her valet’s trousers and a waistcoat with his family’s livery, Tom coming to his aid one last time. She lay on her side, eyes closed, her face pale and solemn, as though she were asleep. With a shaking hand, he reached out and cupped her face. Her skin was still warm. It tortured him with memories of mere hours ago, when she’d been alive in his arms, kissing him in his bed. His beloved wife. She’d lasted only a day.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Someone crouched beside him.

“She was the final move,” Ashton said, as if to himself.

“Move? This wasn’t a bloody game, Ashton,” Charles growled.

“It was,” said Ashton. “A most bloody one.” His fingers tightened on Charles’s shoulder. “Lily’s presence here was no accident. She knew what she was doing. She gave her life for yours. For all of us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hugo knew that as long as you still had something left to lose, you would not commit yourself to destroy him the way you had to. Your fear for our lives would always hold you back, allowing him to chip away at us all until there was nothing left. But to lose her?”

A chill filled the air. Charles slowly turned to Ashton, his fists tightening. “You…told her to sacrifice herself?”

“I told her how events would play out, and she saw the mistake he’d made, just as I had. She understood Hugo almost as well as I did. You must believe me—if I could have taken her place, I would have.”

Charles wanted to strike Ashton down, but behind the calm words he could see the pain his friend was feeling. He had made himself think like Hugo, be Hugo for a time, and that had cost him a piece of his soul.

The League now came in a silent ring around him, and for a moment he felt connected to them all. They were one body, one soul, as they mourned with him. Never had any man been blessed with such friends, and yet they had paid an unspeakable price. Lily’s life given for him, for all of them. He reached out to brush a fingertip down Lily’s cheek, his eyes clouding with tears.

“Hang on,” said Jonathan, his brow furrowed. “Where’s the blood?”

“Blood?” Lucien muttered from beside him.

Lily gasped and spasmed. “Ahh!”

Everyone around her cursed and fell back, including Charles. For the first time in his life, he nearly fainted.

“Oh…” she groaned and tore at her waistcoat. She ripped the buttons aside, moaning as she exposed a thick layer of leather and a small metal breastplate.

“What in God’s name…?” Cedric began.

A bullet was wedged into the metal, and Lily gingerly touched it, but it was firmly pressed into the plate.

“Well done, Lily.” Lucien chuckled. “Well done. Never face a dangerous situation without protection, I always say.”

Lily’s eyes locked on to Charles. She smiled and then winced, covering her chest. “You’re alive,” she whispered.

“So are you,” he murmured in disbelief. “But how?”

Lily nodded toward Ashton and Cedric. “I remembered Lord Sheridan’s duel last year. I heard about the armor and thought there was a chance this might work. Mind you, I had hoped to shoot him dead, but once we were struggling, I made sure he shot me where I wanted him to.”

“It shouldn’t have worked,” Ashton said. “You should be dead.” When everyone glared at him, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it is true.” He knelt down and examined the dent and the bullet still wedged inside it. “Had it been a glancing blow, then yes. But at such close range and straight on? It should not have worked.”

Charles had a revelation. “It was Daniel’s pistol,” he said, remembering the way Hugo’s lieutenant had stabbed him. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the pistol had not had a full charge of gunpowder. But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered right now.

“You’ll still be bruised,” Lucien warned. “Possibly have a broken rib or two.”

“It certainly feels like it.” Lily reached for Charles, and he pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair. His body quaked as he started to cry. He couldn’t hold it back any longer—there was no stopping this flood. She curled her arms around him, holding him like a child, and he didn’t care.

“It’s okay, my love,” she said.

“I know,” said Charles. “I know.”

Hugo was dead.

Lily was alive.

It was finally over.