Page 87 of Godless Saints

“Moon?”

“Was that real?”

“Did Ashbourne just—”

“So the Gazette is true?”

“So Thorn has him.”

“The Seat is finished.”

One voice: “I fucking knew it.”

Sawyer’s chair scraped back violently. The amusement was gone. “Who the fuck said that?”

Vivienne rose. “Out. All of you. Now.”

No one argued. They filed out fast, phones already in hands. I caught at least two people filming before Sawyer snatched a phone from someone’s grip.

“Delete it,” he snarled. “Anyone who posts that before we control the narrative dies politically by dinner. Understood?”

The door closed. I took one step toward the door, pure reflex.

Vivienne’s hand clamped down on my arm. “No, Hyun.”

“Vivienne.”

“Do not follow him. Not in front of them. Not while they’re still feeding the Gallery.”

I wanted to rip free, chase him, kiss him again. Instead, I stayed rooted. Perfectly trained heir.

Vivienne yanked me toward the sofa. “Sit down.”

“Vivi—”

“No, stop looking like you’re about to run after the man who just detonated your future in public.”

I sat.

Sawyer exhaled hard. “The Patronage Seat just became a blood sport.”

And I was bleeding in the arena.

“It already was,” I said quietly.

“Before, you could at least call everyone delusional. Bit harder now, isn’t it?”

Vivienne dropped into the seat across from me, crossed her long legs, and pulled out her phone. I rarely saw her frustration. Usually, it was Sawyer who needed her crisis PR skills.

“The Patronage Seat is gone, isn’t it?”

Vivienne didn’t soften the blow. “Not gone, Hyun. But I’m not going to lie, this just became exponentially harder.”

Sawyer smiled. “Nah. You’ve gotten me out of worse. I believe in you.”

“You already withdrew.”

“Only on paper,” he said. “Nobody outside the Patronage Office knows yet. If you blow up now, they’ll say I withdrew to clear the path for you.”