Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Chapter 195: Tax Evasion In Hamptons White

"It was our place," I say, gentler this time, because her voice is doing that wobble thing it does right before she spirals. "Now it’s a place someone who I let in foolishly, but i let them in, and they hurt us. I’m not waiting around to see if she tries twice."

Lyra’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still pale, still moving slow like her limbs haven’t gotten the memo that the poison’s supposed to be flushed out by now. She doesn’t argue, just starts folding things into a bag with hands that shake a little more than she’d probably like me to notice. "Where are we even going?" she asks, voice quiet but steady enough.

"The casino," I say. "Our casino. The top floor’s getting cleared out tonight, and that’s where we’re staying from now on."

Cherry blinks at me. "The casino? Isn’t that just a business? I mean, sorry, I don’t mean it like that; I just, I don’t really see how a casino is safer than..."

"It’s not just a business." I sit down next to Lyra, let my weight settle so both of them can feel how sure I am about this, even if half of me is still running on fumes. "That place has cameras in every corner, guards who only answer to me, doors that don’t open unless I say so. Nobody gets near that top floor without going through people loyal to me first."

Lyra leans into my side, and I loop a gentle coil around her, feel her heartbeat finally slowing to something normal.

"No one touches you two there," I say. "Not on my ground."

Security at the front doesn’t blink. Cherry’s got the floor staff, Lyra’s got the back-end books, and I’m the owner, so the three of us walking in together at whatever hour this is reads as completely normal to anyone on payroll.

The elevator doors slide open, and I get to watch both their jaws hit the marble floor at the exact same time, which honestly might be the highlight of my whole week.

"Welcome home," I purr, drifting through the doorway because navigating doorframes in this body is still a work in progress.

The Presidential Suite hits different when you’re a giant koi smoke snake hovering over white marble that costs more per square foot than most people’s rent. I’m basically a walking bruise against all this brightness. Dark iridescent scales, fins tucked against my ribs, and somewhere in the back of my head I’m thinking I look like a stain on a wedding dress.

Doesn’t matter, it’s still mine.

"Matt," Lyra says my name like she’s testing if the word still works in her mouth. She’s standing just inside the doorway, green eyes doing that wide, dilated thing they do when she’s trying to process too much information at once. "This is bigger than our old apartment."

"Bigger than my entire block," Cherry mutters, skipping in behind her, wings drooping slightly like even they’re impressed and tired.

I coil up near the centre of the main room and let them look around, because honestly I want to watch their faces more than I want to explain anything. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the whole west side, showing off the city skyline like it’s something I personally arranged for them. Warm gold light spills in from outside, mixing with the soft ambient lighting built into the ceiling, and it makes the whole place glow like something out of a home renovation show that got way too much budget.

White furniture everywhere. Plush couches that look like they’ve never been sat on by anyone with a criminal record. A coffee table shaped like a slab of actual marble, not fake marble, actual quarried stone that some poor bastard probably died carrying up a mountain.

"There are six bedrooms," I say, because I did actually read the deed at some point between hypnotising a man into signing his life away and eating a kebab. "Each one’s got its own bathroom, big tubs. The kind where you could probably drown a horse if you wanted to."

"Why would I want to drown a horse?" Cherry says, but she’s already gone, heels clicking down the nearest hallway, wings half-open like she might just take off indoors if something else impresses her.

Lyra doesn’t move right away. She just stands there, arms loose at her sides, looking at the space like she’s doing math in her head. Probably calculating how many years of Undercity salary this room represents. Knowing her, she’s already found three security flaws and priced out the furniture.

"This doesn’t feel real," she finally says.

"Get used to it," I tell her, drifting closer, coiling near her feet like some overgrown pet that costs a small country’s GDP to maintain."It’s ours now, and you deserve the world."

She crouches down, presses her palm flat against my scales, right over the spot where the snake tattoo is on her own arm. Warmth passes between us, quiet and steady, nothing like the chaos of half an hour ago.

Cherry’s voice echoes from down the hall, muffled and full of disbelief. "There’s a walk-in closet bigger than my old apartment!"

"Check the balcony," I call back, already knowing what her face is gonna look like when she sees the whole city laid out under her feet. "It wraps around the entire suite."

I nudge my head against Lyra’s hip, and for a second, just a second, none of us have to think about Fen or the harpy bitch or anything waiting downstairs in the sewers.

Just white marble, warm light, and the three of us pretending as we belong somewhere this nice.

A soft chime comes from the door, polite and small, nothing like the chaos alarm I’ve got wired into my brain for every other knock in my life.

"That’ll be the staff," I say, already drifting toward the entrance.

Cherry pads back in from the hallway, wings doing a slow, uncertain flap, a tiny frown creasing her face like she’s just remembered something she forgot to worry about.

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