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I nodded. “Devon is a street nigga, that’s why. They don’t think above the surface.”

“And your step-momma?”

I didn’t answer right away.

The wind picked up again, carrying the salt smell of the ocean.

“She believes she still has mind control over me. Not realizing I have dirt on her.”

Ares’ mouth curved.

“Those are usually the most dangerous ones.”

“They’re also the easiest to head tap.”

I poured more whiskey into both glasses.

“The key to all of this is Azaria.”

Ares’ eyes shifted.

“Explain.”

“She has to stay alive.”

“Obviously.”

“And she has to stay clean.”

That part mattered more than anyone outside this terrace would ever understand.

“Her addiction made her unpredictable,” I continued. “If she slips again, they’ll use it against me.”

Ares nodded slowly. “You’re planning further ahead than they are.”

“They’re emotional,” I said simply.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I said the part that mattered most.

“They think they’re arranging the future.”

Ares looked at me.

I finished my drink slowly.

“They don’t realize they’re arranging their own funerals.”

Ares set his cigar down and looked out over Monaco.

“So when do we move?”

I stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace.

“Soon… I’m going to go be with E. She’s been on edge.”

By the time I left Ares, the estate had gone quiet.