She gestured, and another pirate approached carrying a heavy briefcase. The man set it down beside Moreau's throne and lifted the lid slowly. The sharp, metallic scent of old money hit her first - that unmistakable mixture of ink, paper, and metal that spoke of wealth changing hands countless times. Inside, stacks of Cori gleamed like captured sunlight, catching the afternoon rays and reflecting them in a hypnotic dance across Moreau's face, painting her features in a golden glow that made her look almost divine.
Raven's breath caught painfully in her throat at the sight - six million Cori in one place, more money than she'd seen at one time since the night her family's home burned to ashes and her world collapsed into smoke and screams. The chest represented nearly a quarter of what she needed to free her sister from that bastard nobleman's clutches, just sitting there like a golden promise. A quarter of her life's mission, offered on a silver platter.
