The only problem?
A woman appeared. Mid-thirties. Sharp jaw. The Broker’s eyes—cold and calculating, even in recording. She stood in a bare concrete room, hands bound in front of her, but her posture was anything but defeated. Power Vacuum Chapter 12 Official
Jax had expected this. The Broker’s successor wasn’t elected. Wasn’t crowned. Wasn’t voted in by committee. The title passed through a single ritual, older than the city’s spires: the Bloodwright’s Rite. The successor had to present a living heir of the previous ruler, bound and kneeling, before the gathered families. Only then did the chains of power transfer. The only problem
Three weeks since the underworld’s spine had been snapped. Sharp jaw
Jax stood at the head of the obsidian table, its surface scarred by decades of territorial disputes carved into the stone. Twelve chairs lined the sides. Only six were filled. The others sat empty—memorials to those who had fallen in the three weeks since the Broker’s assassination.
She was hidden because the Broker had discovered, in his final years, that his only child was not an heir.