OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: OF CROWNS, CHAINS, AND THE SILENCE THAT CUT DEEPER

There it was.

Evidence.

And still, they didn't crumble. Not in the way I wanted them to. Not in the way they deserved.

Rowan twitched. Bianchi blinked. Lucian froze.

But it wasn't enough.
Because justice isn't just truth.
It's what you do with it.

The murmurs began.

Consequences.
"Three-week suspension."
"Council disqualification."
"Expulsion."
"The High Chamber protocol review."

Each one was tossed like a token on a chessboard.

But none of them felt final.

So I stood.

And the room split open.

"What was supposed to be a sports week was turned into a battlefield."

"And the battlefield was rigged."

I didn't say more. I didn't need to. The unspoken ending was already carved into the walls.

If they hadn't been stopped, someone would've died.

But before the judgment could land—Lyle rose. Without warning. Without invitation. Without resistance.

His voice was colder than mine. And it sliced deeper.

"We're dropping the case."

Time froze. Even Antonio blinked.

"Let them keep their seats. Their badges. Their pride."

"We don't need a punishment."

"They hunted us. Failed."

"The truth of that weighs heavier than any ruling."

"Let them sit in their seats—knowing we know."

That was it. Final. Irrevocable.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My hands were still folded, but my fists were clenched underneath.
This wasn't mercy. This was silence masquerading as victory.

I looked—just once—at Riyee. She was still. Composed. Like she expected it.

Did she know?

The Court didn't blink. No nods. No reactions. They were statues—of power, of restraint, of war reloaded into patience.

Bianchi looked stunned. Rowan looked like he'd been stripped without touch. Lucian... disappeared into himself.

And me?

I sat there in silence.
A ruler with no verdict.
A crown without a gavel.
A storm bound in protocol.

Because that was the game, wasn't it?

Let them live. Let them linger. Let them rot in the shadow of their own exposure. But something inside me cracked.

Not from doubt.

From the realization that I had become part of a performance I didn't script. And that the silence I upheld? It wasn't mine. It was theirs.

***

The Arcanum House Rooftop was empty. As it should be. No one came up here except me—and her.

This place wasn't just mine. It was ours. The Arcanum House roof stood above the highest dorms, past any surveillance, beyond even Bianchi's eyes. 

We never said it out loud, but this place—it was where we unraveled. Where I could look at her and forget the weight of my name. Where she could sit beside me without needing to explain why she stayed.