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Eloise Bridgerton was not, technically speaking, a terrorist.
She just really fucking enjoyed blowing shit up for a good cause.
"Theo, you ready?" she shouted over the roar of the crowd.
Theo Sharpe—her best friend, fellow anarchist, and the person most likely to bail her out of jail—grinned from behind his homemade smoke bomb. "Born ready, babe!"
They were in Trafalgar Square. Five thousand people. Protest against government corruption. Specifically: Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz's decades of bribing MPs and laundering money through "charitable foundations."
Eloise had the megaphone. "FUCK THE SYSTEM! FUCK CHARLOTTE! FUCK CAPITALIST BULLSHIT!"
The crowd roared.
Theo threw the smoke bomb. Pink smoke—because aesthetic anarchy was still anarchy—filled the square.
Chaos.
Beautiful, perfect chaos.
Police charged. Protesters scattered. Eloise and Theo ran, laughing like maniacs, dodging riot shields and tear gas.
"LEFT!" Theo yelled.
They dove into an alley.
And crashed directly into a man carrying a very large bag of what was definitely not oregano.
"FUCK!" The man dropped the bag. Weed everywhere.
Eloise looked up.
Six-foot-three. Tattooed arms. Sleeve of intricate designs—roses, skulls, something that looked like DNA helices. Dark hair tied back. An expression that suggested he'd just as soon kill them as help them.
Also: extremely, devastatingly hot.
"Holy shit," Theo breathed. "You have amazing tattoos."
The man blinked. "What?"
"Your ink. It's gorgeous. Where'd you get it done?" Theo was already leaning closer, completely ignoring the fact that they were literally standing in a pile of illegal drugs while police sirens wailed nearby.
"Are you two fucking serious right now?" The man grabbed his bag and started shoving weed back in. "Police are thirty seconds away, and you're asking about my tattoos?"
Eloise helped gather the weeds. "To be fair, they are really good tattoos. Very detailed. The shading on this skull is exceptional—"
"Oh, my god." The man looked at the sky. "I'm being robbed by art critics."
"We're not robbing you!" Theo protested. "We're helping!"
"By asking intrusive personal questions during a felony?"
"Exactly!"
Police burst into the alley.
The tattooed man grabbed Eloise and Theo, shoved them through a hidden door—literally a door that had been painted to look like a wall, and slammed it shut.
Darkness. Cramped space. Three people pressed together.
"Don't fucking move," the man hissed.
Outside: police searching. Shouting. Footsteps.
Eloise was pressed against the man's chest. Could feel his heartbeat. Smell him—tobacco and soil and cannabis.
"You smell like weed," she whispered.
"I'm literally carrying fifty pounds of it. What did you expect? Chanel?"
"I like it."
"Of course you do. You're insane."
Theo squished on Eloise's other side, whispered: "Is this a good time to mention I'm extremely claustrophobic?"
"No," both Eloise and the man said simultaneously.
They waited.
Five minutes until the police leave.
The man opened the door. They tumbled out into what appeared to be a basement storage room filled with gardening equipment and more weed.
"Where are we?" Eloise asked.
"My distribution center." The man set down his bag. "And you two just led the police directly here. So congratulations. You've fucked me."
"We didn't mean to—" Theo started.
"Don't care. Get out."
"Wait." Eloise looked around. Took in the grow lights, the ventilation system, and the careful organization. "This is a premium operation. Who are you?"
The man's jaw tightened. "None of your fucking business."
"I'm Eloise Bridgerton—"
"I know who you are. Anarchist. Troublemaker. Pain in Charlotte's ass." He crossed his arms. "Which makes you either very brave or very stupid."
"Both," Theo offered helpfully.
"Great. Lovely. Now get out before you attract more police."
"I'm not leaving until you tell me your name."
The man stared at her. "You're serious."
"Completely."
"You just accidentally compromised my operation, led police to my location, and now you're making demands?"
"Yes."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He ran a hand through his hair. "Philip Crane. And before you ask—yes, that Philip Crane. The one who grows premium cannabis and supplies half of London. Happy now?"
Eloise's eyes widened. "Holy shit. Are you the Crane? The one Charlotte's been trying to buy for years?"
"The same."
"And you keep saying no because...?"
"Because fuck Charlotte." Philip's voice was flat. "Now, seriously. Get out."
"Make me."
Philip looked at her. Really looked. "You're enjoying this."
"I enjoy most things that involve pissing off authority figures and hot men with tattoos."
Theo snorted. "She's not subtle."
"Clearly." Philip grabbed Eloise's wrist—not rough, but firm—and started pulling her toward the door.
Eloise dug in her heels. "I have a proposition."
"Not interested."
"You don't even know what it is—"
"Don't care. Out."
"I can help you take down Charlotte."
Philip stopped. Turned. "What?"
"I said I can help you take down Charlotte. I've been gathering evidence on her for two years. I know her networks, her operations, her vulnerabilities. We want the same thing—she's gone. So let's work together."
"You're an anarchist. I'm a drug dealer. How exactly would that partnership work?"
"Chaotically." Eloise grinned. "But effectively."
Philip studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled—sharp and dangerous. "You know what? Fuck it. I like chaos. Come on."
"Where?"
"Romney Hall. My place. We'll talk there." He grabbed his bag of weed. "Fair warning: I have my niece and nephews living with me. They're eight. They're feral. And they ask a lot of questions."
"I'm excellent with children," Eloise said.
"That's a lie."
"Completely. But I'm willing to try."
Theo raised his hand. "I'm also here. Just FYI."
"I noticed," Philip said. "You're the one who complimented my tattoos during a police chase."
"They're really good tattoos!"
"Jesus Christ." But Philip was almost smiling. "Fine. Both of you. Let's go before more police show up."
They left through a tunnel system—because of course Philip had tunnels—and emerged three blocks away where a battered Land Rover waited.
Philip drove like a man who'd never heard of speed limits.
Theo clung to the door handle. "Are we going to die?"
"Probably not," Philip said. "I'm an excellent driver."
"That's not reassuring when you're going ninety in a forty zone!"
"Would you prefer I go slower and let the police catch us?"
"...Fair point."
Eloise leaned forward from the back seat. "So. Philip Crane. Tell me about yourself."
"No."
"Come on. We're partners now. I should know basic things. Like, why are you raising your niece and nephews? Where their parents are."
Philip's jaw tightened. "My brother died six years ago. His wife—my sister-in-law Marina—she's alive. We co-parent. She lives at Romney Hall with me. The twins are Oliver and Amanda. They're chaos incarnate. That's all you need to know."
"How did your brother die?"
"Gambling debts. Bad people. Poor choices." Philip took a corner hard enough to make the tires scream. "I took over his debts. Built the operation. Made enough money that killing me became more expensive than letting me live."
"And Marina?"
"She helps run things. Surprisingly good at logistics and threatening people." He almost smiled. "You'll like her. She swears more than you do."
"Impossible," Eloise said.
"Trust me."
His house was exactly what Eloise expected: sprawling estate, overgrown gardens, greenhouse complex that screamed "definitely illegal agriculture."
They barely made it through the door before two small humans attacked.
"UNCLE PHILIP!" A boy with dark curls launched himself at Philip's legs.
"DID YOU BRING PRESENTS?" A girl—identical curls, missing front tooth—was right behind him.
"Oliver. Amanda. Inside voices." Philip tried to sound stern. Failed. "We have guests."
Both twins turned to stare at Eloise and Theo.
"Who're they?" Oliver asked.
"Are they criminals?" Amanda asked hopefully.
"Yes," Eloise said.
"Cool!" Both twins high-fived.
A woman appeared from the kitchen—early thirties, dark hair, wearing an apron that said "FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT" in embroidered letters.
"Philip, you're late. Again." She noticed Eloise and Theo. "Who the fuck are they?"
"Anarchists," Philip said. "This is Eloise Bridgerton and Theo Sharpe. They accidentally led police to the distribution center during a riot."
"Excellent." Marina wiped her hands on a towel. "I'm Marina Crane. Mother of these two demons. Co-owner of this shitshow. Want tea?"
"Is it spiked?" Eloise asked.
"It can be."
"Then yes."
They settled in the kitchen—massive, chaotic, smelling of fresh bread and … cannabis.
"So," Marina said, pouring tea and adding whiskey without asking. "You're THE Eloise Bridgerton. The one who burned down Charlotte's casino last year."
"That was never proven," Eloise said.
"You live-streamed it."
"Circumstantial."
Marina laughed. "I like you. Philip, keep her."
"I'm not keeping anyone—"
"You're keeping her. Look at you. You're already doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you pretend you're annoyed, but you're actually charmed. You're doing that face." Marina turned to Eloise. "He only does that face for people he likes. Usually right before he fucks them."
"MARINA." Philip's face was red. "Children. Present."
"We know what fucking is!" Amanda announced cheerfully.
"We do not," Oliver corrected. "We know it's what grown-ups do when they like each other, and also it makes babies."
"Close enough," Marina said. "Now go play. Adults are talking."
The twins ran off, already fighting over a toy truck.
Marina turned back to Eloise and Theo. "Alright. Philip says you want to take down Charlotte. Why?"
"Because she's a corrupt piece of shit who's been running London like her personal kingdom for decades," Eloise said. "And I'm tired of powerful people getting away with everything while the rest of us suffer."
"Good answer from mafia heiress." Marina lit a cigarette and offered the pack. Eloise took one. "What's your plan?"
"Honestly? I haven't figured that out yet. I've been more focused on the 'burn everything down' part than the 'what comes after' part."
"Very anarchist of you."
"I contain multitudes."
Theo cleared his throat. "Actually, I might have something useful. I've been tracking Charlotte's finances for months. Hobby, mostly. I work in IT, so I have access to... certain things."
Marina raised an eyebrow. "Certain illegal things?"
"Very illegal things."
"I like him too. Philip, keep both of them."
"This isn't a fucking rescue shelter—"
"Too late. They live here now." Marina stood. "Come on. I'll show you the operation. Maybe you'll actually be useful."
The greenhouse complex was stunning.
Rows and rows of cannabis plants. Different strains. Different grow lights. A level of organization that suggested this wasn't just a drug operation, it was a science.
"This is beautiful," Theo breathed.
"Thank you," Philip said, looking pleased. "This section is Crimson Thorn, my signature strain. High THC, high CBD, grows faster than anything else on the market."
"And very illegal," Eloise said.
"Legality is a social construct."
"I love you a little bit right now."
Philip's eyes met hers. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They stared at each other.
Marina cleared her throat. "Are you two going to fuck or can we continue the tour?"
"MARINA."
"What? The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife. Just bone already and get it over with."
"I hate you," Philip muttered.
"No, you don't." Marina turned to Eloise. "He's single, by the way. In case you were wondering. My last girlfriend was three years ago. She couldn't handle the criminal lifestyle. Very boring."
"Good to know," Eloise said.
"Also, he's excellent in bed. Very attentive. Good with his hands—"
"THAT'S ENOUGH." Philip grabbed Marina's arm. "You. Kitchen. Now. We need to discuss boundaries."
"We don't have boundaries. We've seen each other naked."
"That was an accident—"
"You walked into the bathroom while I was showering—"
"I was high and forgot you were home!"
They bickered all the way back to the house.
Theo turned to Eloise. "This family is completely insane."
"I know," Eloise said. "I love them already."
The doorbell rang at 6 PM.
Marina answered. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Colin Bridgerton. What do you want?"
Colin Bridgerton stood on the doorstep with Penelope, looking extremely uncomfortable.
"We need to talk to Philip," Colin said. "It's urgent."
"Everything with your family is urgent." But Marina stepped aside. "Come in."
They gathered in the living room. Eloise froze when she saw Colin.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Colin looked around. "Nice place. Very... criminal."
"Fuck off."
"Charming as ever, sister."
The redhead cleared her throat. "Um. Hi. Eloise, what are you doing here?
Eloise's eyes narrowed. "I should ask you that. You know Marina?”
"Marina's cousin," Penelope confirmed. "We grew up together. Lost touch. Reconnected recently."
"She's also Whistledown," Colin said.
The room went very quiet.
"WHAT?" Eloise stood. "You're WHISTLEDOWN?"
"Surprise?" Penelope offered weakly.
"I've been following your leaks for YEARS. I've based half my activism on your intel. You exposed the Sheffield corruption. The Cowper money laundering. You're a fucking legend—"
"Thank you?"
"—and you've been working with my brother? Colin 'I'm Too Good For Crime' Bridgerton?"
"Hey," Colin protested. "I'm plenty good at crime."
"You faint at the sight of blood!"
"That was ONE TIME."
"It was a papercut!"
"It was a DEEP papercut!"
Marina, Philip, and Theo watched this like a tennis match.
Finally, Penelope spoke: "Can everyone please calm down? Colin and I are here because we have information about Charlotte. She's planning something. Something big."
Philip leaned forward. "What kind of big?"
"She's trying to acquire your operation. By force." Penelope pulled out her phone and showed them the intercepted messages. "She hires a mercenary. Russian. Ex-military. They're planning to hit this place within forty-eight hours."
"Fuck," Philip said.
"Exactly." Colin looked grim. "Which is why we're proposing an alliance. Bridgertons, Crane operation, Whistledown. We pool resources, protect everyone, and take Charlotte down permanently."
"What's Anthony say about this?" Eloise asked.
"He doesn't know yet."
"COLIN."
"I'm telling him tonight! But I wanted to warn Philip first."
Marina stood. "Right. So we have forty-eight hours before armed mercenaries attack our home. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. I'm going to get very high and think about our options."
She left and returned sixty seconds later with a massive joint.
"Anyone want some?"
Everyone raised their hands.
An hour later, they were all thoroughly stoned and sprawled across the living room.
"Okay," Eloise said, staring at the ceiling. "So. Charlotte. She's evil. We don't like her. What do we do?"
Eloise didn’t hate Aunt Charlotte, who taught her everything about explosions, bombs, and drugs. She hated Queen Charlotte, the queen of crime who bled her family dry.
"Kill her," Philip suggested.
"Can't kill her," Penelope said. "She's too connected. We kill her, we start a war."
"I like war," Marina said dreamily.
"You like the idea of war. Actual war is messy and involves bullet wounds." Philip warned.
"I can handle bullet wounds. I've been shot before." Marina shrugged.
"WHAT?" Theo sat up too fast, got dizzy, and lay back down. "When were you shot?"
"Last year. Russia tried to muscle in on our territory. Shot me in the leg. I stabbed him in the kidney. We're even." Marina grinned proudly.
"That's the most romantic story I've ever heard," Eloise said.
"Thank you."
Colin passed the joint to Philip. "We need a plan that doesn't involve murder. Anthony would kill me if I helped commit murder."
"Anthony's boring," Eloise said.
"Anthony's practical. There's a difference."
"Same thing."
Philip took a long drag and passed the joint to Theo. "What if we discredit her? Expose her operations publicly. Get her arrested."
"We've tried that," Penelope said. "She has cops on payroll. Judges. Politicians. Nothing sticks."
"Then we need someone who can't be bought." Eloise's eyes widened. "Alfred Debling."
Everyone looked at her.
"Who?" Marina asked.
"SFO detective. Total boy scout. Obsessed with taking down Charlotte. He's been investigating her for years." Eloise sat up. "If we give him evidence—real, undeniable evidence—he'll use it. He doesn't care about politics or connections. He just wants justice."
"That's... actually a good idea," Colin admitted.
"I have good ideas when I'm high!"
"You have terrible ideas when you're high. This is an outlier."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you too, sister."
Theo raised his hand. "I have Charlotte's financial records. Everything she's tried to hide. I can package it for Debling. Make it court-ready."
"Perfect." Philip stood—wobbled slightly, steadied himself. "So we have a plan. We give Debling evidence. He arrests Charlotte. We all live happily ever after."
"Except for the Russian mercenaries who are attacking in forty-eight hours," Marina pointed out.
"Right. Them." Philip thought about it. "We fight them."
"There are at least twenty of them."
"So we get creative."
"I like creative," Eloise said.
"Of course you do," Philip said. "You're insane."
"And you're about to kiss me."
Philip blinked. "What?"
"You've been staring at my mouth for the past ten minutes. Either kiss me or stop being a coward."
Everyone went very quiet.
Colin covered his eyes. "Please don't. You're my sister. This is weird."
"Then leave," Eloise said, still looking at Philip.
Colin left. Penelope followed, giggling.
Marina grabbed Theo. "Come on. They need privacy."
"But I want to watch—"
"NO YOU DON'T." She dragged him out, leaving Eloise and Philip alone.
"So," Eloise said.
"So," Philip echoed.
"Are you going to kiss me or—"
Philip crossed the room, grabbed her face, and kissed her.
It was better than Eloise expected. Which was saying something because her expectations were already extremely high.
His hands in her hair. Her hands on his tattooed arms—god, his arms—both of them gasping into each other's mouths.
"Bed," Eloise managed. "Now."
"Upstairs. Third door on the left."
They made it upstairs.
Barely.
Philip's room was exactly what Eloise expected: simple, organized, smelling of cannabis and tobacco.
She was on him before the door fully closed—hands already pulling off his shirt, needing to see those tattoos properly.
"Fuck," she breathed. "You're gorgeous."
"You're high."
"I'm horny. There's a difference." She traced the rose design on his shoulder. "This one. Tell me about it."
"My brother designed it. Before he died."
"I love it." She kissed the tattoo. Then bit his shoulder.
Philip groaned. "Jesus—"
"Bed. Now."
He lifted her—just fucking lifted her like she weighed nothing—and threw her onto the bed.
Eloise bounced, laughing. "Show-off."
"You like it."
"I really do."
Philip pulled off her shirt. Unhooked her bra with one hand. "Fuck. You're perfect."
"I know." She arched as his mouth found her breast. "More. I want more."
"Greedy."
"Always."
He worked her slowly—mouth and hands and devastating precision. By the time he had her jeans off, Eloise was panting.
"Philip—"
"Tell me what you want."
"You. Inside me. Now."
"Patience—"
"Fuck patience. I've been patient for three hours. If you don't fuck me right now, I'm leaving."
Philip laughed—dark and delighted. "N,o you're not."
"Try me."
He slid two fingers inside her. Eloise's back arched, a broken moan escaping.
"That's what I thought," Philip said. "You're not going anywhere."
He worked her until she was shaking—then finally, finally pulled off his jeans and grabbed a condom from the nightstand.
"Wait," Eloise said. "I'm on the pill. And I'm clean. You?"
"Clean. Last test was two weeks ago."
"Then fuck the condom. I want to feel you."
Philip's eyes darkened. "You're going to kill me."
"Good. Die happy."
He slid inside her in one slow thrust.
Both of them groaned.
"Fuck," Eloise gasped. "You're—that's—fuck—"
"Eloquent."
"Shut up and move."
Philip moved.
It was exactly what Eloise needed—hard, fast, both of them chasing pleasure with single-minded focus. His hands on her hips, her nails raking down his back, both of them gasping curses and each other's names.
When she came, it was violent—back arching, Philip's name falling from her lips like a prayer.
Philip followed moments later, burying deep with a broken "Eloise—fuck—"
They collapsed together, panting, sweating, thoroughly satisfied.
"That was—" Eloise started.
"Yeah," Philip agreed.
"We're doing that again."
"Absolutely."
"Like, right now."
Philip laughed. "Give me ten minutes."
"Five."
"Demanding."
"You love it."
"I really do," Philip said, and kissed her.
THE NEXT MORNING - PLANNING THE DEFENSE
Breakfast at Romney Hall was chaos.
Oliver and Amanda are arguing over pancakes. Marina is nursing a hangover. Theo looked thoroughly traumatized.
"You okay?" Eloise asked him.
"I walked in on you and Philip last night. Twice."
"Oh. Sorry."
"I'm not. His tattoos look even better when he's naked. I have questions about the DNA helix on his ribs—"
"THEO."
"What? I'm curious! Is it functional? Does it represent something? Where did he get it done?"
Philip walked in, looking rumpled and satisfied. "Morning."
"UNCLE PHILIP!" Amanda pointed. "You have a hickey!"
"I—what—no I don't—"
"Yes, you do! Right there on your neck! Did Aunt Eloise give it to you?"
Eloise smiled sweetly. "Maybe."
"COOL!" Oliver high-fived his sister.
Marina laughed so hard she spilled her coffee.
Colin walked in with Penelope. Took one look at the hickey. Closed his eyes. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that."
"Good plan," Philip said.
"Are we here to plan a defense or discuss Philip's sex life?" Penelope asked.
"Both," Marina said. "Multitasking."
They spread maps across the kitchen table. Romney Hall's layout. The greenhouse complex. Potential entry points.
"Russians will hit from three directions," Colin said. "Standard military approach. We need to be ready."
"How many people do we have?" Philip asked.
"Us. Marina. Eloise. Theo. Penelope. Me. That's six."
"I can fight," Amanda said.
"No," everyone said simultaneously.
"But—"
"NO."
Oliver raised his hand. "I can throw rocks really hard."
"Also no."
The twins pouted.
Marina stubbed out her cigarette. "We need more people. What about Sophie?"
"She just had a baby," Penelope said. "She's still recovering."
"Sophie Baek recovered from a gunshot wound in three days. She can handle post-birth." Marina pulled out her phone and called.
Eloise didn’t know Sophie knew Marina. “You know her?”
Marina nodded, “She is great. Wait Sophie. It's Marina. I need backup. Russians attacking Romney Hall in"—she checked her watch—"thirty-six hours. Can you help?"
Pause.
"Excellent. Bring Benedict. And weapons. Lots of weapons."
She hung up. "Sophie's in."
"Of course she is," Eloise said. "She's terrifying."
"Runs in the family. Penelope's terrified, ng too."
"I'm not terrifying," Penelope protested.
"You're Whistledown. You've been manipulating London's underworld for years. That's literally the definition of terrifying."
"...Fair point."
Theo raised his hand. "I'm not terrifying. I'm tech support."
"You hacked government databases for fun. That's at least moderately terrifying."
"I prefer 'enthusiastically criminal.'"
Philip's phone rang. Unknown number. He answered: "Yeah?"
Alfred Debling's voice: "Mr. Crane. We need to talk. Now."
Alfred Debling arrived thirty minutes later, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Detective," Philip said. "What brings you to my very legal agricultural operation?"
"Cut the shit, Crane. I know what you grow here. I don't care. I'm after Charlotte." Debling threw a file on the table. "I received an anonymous package last night. Financial records. Communications. Evidence of money laundering, bribery, and racketeering. Everything I need to build a case."
Theo and Penelope exchanged glances.
"Congratulations?" Philip offered.
"The evidence is too perfect. Too organized. Someone wants me to arrest Charlotte." Debling's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Does it matter?" Eloise asked. "You have the evidence. Use it."
"I need to know the source. Chain of custody. If this is fabricated—"
"It's not fabricated," Theo said. "I compiled it myself. Every document is verified. Every transaction confirmed. It's real." is
"And you are?"
"Theo Sharpe. IT specialist. Criminal enthusiast. I've been tracking Charlotte's finances for two years."
"Why?"
"Because she's evil and someone needs to stop her." Theo shrugged. "Also I was bored."
Debling stared at him. "You committed multiple felonies because you were bored."
"Correct."
"Jesus Christ." Debling sat down heavily. "Alright. Fine. I'll use the evidence. But I need testimony. People willing to go on record against Charlotte."
"We'll testify," Eloise said immediately.
"You're an anarchist who's wanted for arson in three countries.
“Four countries. Get your facts straight."
"Not helping your case."
Marina spoke: "I'll testify. I'm a semi-legitimate businesswoman. Mostly."
"You run a drug operation."
"An agricultural business."
"That's not—" Debling stopped. Took a breath. "Fine. Anyone else?"
"I'll do it," Philip said. "Charlotte's been harassing me for years. I have documentation. Witnesses. Everything you need."
"Good. That's good." Debling stood. "I'm moving on this today. Arrest warrant. Raid on her properties. Full investigation. But I need you all to stay safe. If Charlotte finds out you're cooperating—"
"She'll send people to kill us. We know." Philip crossed his arms. "Hence the defensive preparations."
"What defensive preparations?"
"You don't want to know."
"I really don't." Debling headed for the door. Paused. "Thank you. For this. It means something."
"Just catch her," Eloise said. "Make it stick this time."
"I will." Debling left.
The moment he was gone, Marina lit another joint. "Well. That was productive. Now let's talk about how we're going to murder twenty Russians."
Sophie Baek arrived six hours later with Benedict, a newborn baby, and enough weapons to supply a small army.
"SOPHIE!" Marina hugged her. "You look amazing for someone who gave birth a week ago."
"I do yoga." Sophie handed the baby to Benedict. "Hold her. I need to see the property."
Benedict carefully cradled his daughter. "She's so small."
"She's a baby, Benedict. That's normal."
"But she's SO SMALL."
Eloise looked at her brother. "You're a father now. That's terrifying."
"I know! It's the best thing ever!" Benedict was crying. Again. "She smiled at me this morning."
"That was gas."
"IT WAS A SMILE."
Sophie returned from her inspection. "Alright. Here's the plan. We set up defensive positions at three entry points. North, east, south. West is the cliff—too steep to climb. We place shooters in the greenhouse, the main house, and the equipment shed. Motion sensors on all approaches. And we booby-trap the driveway."
"Booby-trap how?" Theo asked nervously.
"Explosives. Obviously."
"OBVIOUSLY?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Yes! Not dying!"
"We won't die. I've done this before."
"That's not reassuring!"
Philip pulled out a floor plan. "I have another idea. The greenhouses have a sprinkler system. We can rig it to spray—" He grinned. "—concentrated THC oil."
Everyone stared at him.
"You want to hotbox the Russians?" Eloise asked.
"Exactly. Get them high. Disoriented. Easy targets."
"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," Marina said.
"It's also completely insane," Colin pointed out.
"Your point?"
"I don't have one. Let's do it."
They spent the next thirty hours preparing.
Sophie directed tactical placements. Philip and Marina rigged the sprinklers. Theo set up motion sensors and cameras. Eloise and Colin made Molotov cocktails (siblings bonding through arson).
Benedict painted.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Sophie yelled at him.
Sophie saw Little Violet giggling at Alfie. Oh Jesus. “Your husband is losing his shit so…”
"Art! I'm painting warnings on the driveway! 'TURN BACK OR DIE' in interpretive brushstrokes!"
"That's not helpful!"
"It's ARTISTIC!"
Penelope ignored them, focusing on her laptop and monitoring communications. "They're moving. Russians are thirty minutes out."
"Positions!" Sophie ordered. "Everyone, where we planned!"
Chaos. Everyone scrambling.
Oliver and Amanda were locked in the panic room with supplies and strict instructions not to leave under any circumstances.
"But we want to help!" Amanda protested.
"You can help by staying alive," Marina told them. "Now stay put."
The twins reluctantly agreed.
Adults took positions and waited.
The Russians arrived at 2 AM.
Four black SUVs. Twenty men. Ex-military. Heavily armed.
They hit the first booby trap immediately.
BOOM.
One SUV exploded. Russians scattered.
"LIGHT 'EM UP!" Sophie ordered.
Gunfire erupted.
Philip was in the greenhouse, rifle aimed, and dropped two Russians. "East clear!"
Eloise was on the roof, throwing Molotov cocktails like a woman possessed. "BURN YOU FASCIST FUCKS!"
One landed on a Russian's jacket. He screamed, rolled, and tried to put it out.
His buddy shot at Eloise. Missed.
Theo—from his position in the equipment shed—hacked the driveway lights. Strobed them. Disoriented the attackers.
"THEO, YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Eloise yelled.
"I KNOW!"
Colin and Penelope were in the main house, providing covering fire.
"Behind you!" Penelope shouted.
Colin spun, fired. Russian dropped.
"Thanks, babe!"
"Don't call me babe during combat!"
"SORRY!"
Marina was in the garden, using a fucking compound bow. Because Marina was extra.
She shot a Russian in the thigh. He went down screaming.
"THAT'S FOR THREATENING MY KIDS!" she yelled and shot another one.
Sophie was mobile—moving between positions, coordinating, occasionally shooting people with terrifying precision despite having given birth a week ago.
"LEFT FLANK!" she ordered.
Benedict popped up from behind a hedge and threw a paint bomb filled with acid.
It hit a Russian in the face. He clawed at his eyes, screaming.
"THAT'S FOR INTERRUPTING MY PAINTING TIME!"
Then Philip activated the greenhouse sprinklers.
THC oil sprayed everywhere.
Russians in the greenhouse immediately started coughing. Stumbling. Laughing?
"What the fuck—" one managed.
Then he sat down and stared at his hands. "Dude. My hands are so weird."
Another Russian started crying. "I miss my mom."
A third tried to shoot Philip, missed by ten feet, then giggled. "Sorry, man. Everything's so pretty."
"THEY'RE HIGH!" Eloise yelled, delighted. "PHILIP, YOU'RE A GENIUS!"
The battle devolved into chaos.
Half the Russians were incapacitated—dead, wounded, or extremely stoned. The other half tried to regroup.
Their leader—massive, covered in scars—pulled out a grenade.
"EVERYONE DOWN!" Sophie screamed.
He threw it.
Toward the main house.
Philip saw it. Saw the arc. Saw where it would land.
Right where Eloise was.
He ran, grabbed her, and pulled her behind a wall.
The grenade exploded.
Heat. Sound. Pressure.
Philip felt something hot slash across his side. Ignored it.
"You okay?" he gasped.
"I'm fine—PHILIP YOU'RE BLEEDING!"
He looked down. Blood was spreading across his shirt. "Oh. That's not ideal."
Then he passed out.
HOSPITAL -10 Hours Later
Philip woke up in a hospital bed.
Private room. Armed guard outside. Definitely not NHS.
"Hey." Eloise was sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. "You're awake."
"What happened?"
"Shrapnel from the grenade. Cut your side. Missed anything vital, but you lost a lot of blood." She squeezed his hand. "You saved my life, you idiot."
"Had to. You're mine now."
"Possessive even while injured. Hot."
Philip laughed, then winced. "Don't make me laugh. Hurts."
"Sorry." Eloise stood and locked the door. "The doctor said you need to rest. But I have a better idea."
"What—"
She climbed onto the bed. Carefully straddled him, avoiding his injury.
"Eloise—"
"Shh. Let me do the work." She kissed him slowly. "You saved my life. I'm returning the favor."
"This is a hospital—"
"I know. Makes it hotter."
She worked her way down his body—kissing, licking, driving him insane.
By the time she had his hospital gown pushed up and her mouth on him, Philip had forgotten every reason this was a bad idea.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Eloise—"
She didn't stop. Just worked him with mouth and hand until he was gasping, fisting the sheets, trying very hard not to make a noise because there were nurses outside.
When he came, it was silent—back arching, her name dying on his lips.
Eloise climbed back up and kissed him. "Better?"
"You're insane."
"You love it."
"I really do."
Six Months Later
Two weeks later, Philip was released from the hospital.
One week after that, Francesca Bridgerton married John Stirling in the most chaotic wedding London had ever seen.
The ceremony was beautiful. The reception was a disaster.
"I can't believe Violet got arrested," Eloise said, watching her mother being led away in handcuffs.
"What did she do?" Philip asked.
"Tax evasion. Apparently, she's been hiding assets in the Caymans for twenty years." Eloise shook her head. "Anthony's going to lose his mind."
On cue, Anthony appeared. "Family meeting. Now."
They gathered in a side room—all the Bridgertons, plus significant others.
Anthony looked wrecked. "The Ton reached out. With Charlotte arrested, they want new leadership. They want me. Sole control of the family operations."
"That's good, right?" Colin asked.
"It's a trap. If I take sole control, I absorb all liability. All risk. If anything goes wrong, I'm the one who goes down."
"So refuse," Eloise said.
"I can't. If I refuse, they'll install someone else. Someone who doesn't care about family. Who'll liquidate our assets and leave us vulnerable?"
"Then we fight them," Benedict said.
"With what? Charlotte had all the connections. All the leverage. Without her—"
"We have each other," Violet said firmly. "And we're stronger than they think."
“Your mother is right, Anthony. Bridgerton is stronger than ever, and The Ton obviously sees your hard work.”
Anthony looked at his wife. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure. We'll figure this out. Together."
"Together," the siblings echoed.
Eloise grabbed Philip's hand. "You're part of this now. You know that, right?"
"I figured." He kissed her temple. "Where else would I go?"
After the wedding, after the chaos, Eloise, Philip, and Theo ended up in a stolen Mercedes.
"Why did we steal a car?" Theo asked from the backseat.
"Because it's fun," Eloise said. She was in the driver's seat, going ninety on the motorway.
"We could've just taken Philip's Land Rover—"
"Not the same thrill."
Philip, in the passenger seat, was smoking a joint. "You know what would make this better?"
"What?"
"Pull over."
Eloise did.
They were on a dark country road. Middle of nowhere.
"Why—" Theo started.
Philip turned around and looked at Theo. Then at Eloise. "I have an idea."
"I'm listening," Eloise said.
"We're all keyed up from the wedding. From everything. We should... relax."
"How?"
Philip's smile was wicked. "Use your imagination."
Eloise's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting—"
"If both of you are interested."
Theo went red. "I—um—I've never—"
"Neither have I," Eloise admitted. "But I'm willing to try new things."
They looked at each other.
"Fuck it," all three said simultaneously.
What followed was messy, awkward, and absolutely incredible.
Eloise was kissing Philip while Theo kissed her neck. Philip's hand between Eloise's legs. Eloise's hand on Theo. All three of them tangled together in the backseat, laughing and gasping and definitely fogging up the windows.
"This is insane," Theo managed.
"Best kind," Eloise gasped.
Philip just groaned, lost in sensation.
They came apart slowly—sweaty, satisfied, thoroughly debauched.
"Well," Eloise said. "That happened."
"That definitely happened," Theo agreed.
Philip lit another joint and passed it around. "We're not telling anyone about this."
"Agreed," Eloise and Theo said.
They sat in comfortable silence, passing the joint, watching stars through the sunroof.
"I love you both," Eloise said suddenly.
"I love you too," Theo said. "Platonically. Mostly."
"I love you," Philip said to Eloise. "And I tolerate Theo."
"I'll take it," Theo said.
They drove back to London in the stolen car, windows down, music blasting, all three of them grinning like idiots.
Six months later.
Charlotte was in prison. Twenty-five-year sentence. No parole.
Anthony had taken control of the Ton, with Kate beside him.
Philip and Eloise moved in together—Romney Hall, with Marina and the twins, because they were all family now.
Theo got a job as their IT security specialist. And an occasional third wheel.
Penelope and Colin were disgustingly in love, running Whistledown together.
Sophie and Benedict had their hands full with a baby who screamed constantly but was objectively perfect.
And Debling got his promotion. Became the youngest head of the SFO in history.
Life was good.
Chaotic. Criminal. Occasionally violent.
But good.
"Hey," Philip said one evening, finding Eloise in the greenhouse.
"Hey, yourself." She was transplanting seedlings. "What's up?"
"Marry me."
Eloise dropped her trowel. "What?"
"Marry me. I'm serious." Philip pulled out a ring—simple, beautiful, clearly expensive. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So marry me."
Eloise stared at the ring. At Philip. In the future, he was offering.
"Yes," she said. "You, insane man. Yes."
He kissed her—deep and claiming and perfect.
From the house, Theo yelled: "ARE YOU COMING TO DINNER OR FUCKING IN THE GREENHOUSE AGAIN?"
"BOTH!" Eloise yelled back.
"GROSS!"
"YOU LOVE US!"
"UNFORTUNATELY!"
Philip laughed. "This is our life now."
"I know," Eloise grinned. "And I wouldn't change a fucking thing."