The wind was cold. Isabella pulled her coat tighter around her as she stood in the shadow of the old observatory, the strangerâs words echoing in her ears. âI knew your mother.â She studied his faceâsharp features, silver-streaked hair, and eyes that held too many secrets. There was something familiar about him, something that prickled at the back of her mind like a memory just out of reach. âMy motherâs dead,â she said, her voice steady. âWhatever you think you know, youâre too late.â The man didnât flinch. âShe may be gone, but her story isnât finished. And neither is yours.â âWho are you?â He stepped forward slightly, staying just outside the moonlight. âMy name is Elias Grayson. I was Helena Laurentâs friend. And the man who tried to protect her when she was being hunted.â âHunted by whom?â âBy the same people who are after you now,â he said gently. âThe Serpent. His reach goes deeper than you know. Your mother knew too much, and when she wouldnât cooperate⊠she became a t
The name hung in the air like a curse. Lucien DâAvanti. The Serpent. Isabella blinked, taking a step back. âYou know him?â Alexanderâs jaw clenched. âI more than know him. Heâs the reason I built Blackwood the way I did. The reason I swore never to trust anyone. And now⊠heâs the reason Iâm afraid for you.â She studied his faceâso still, so tightly controlledâbut his eyes betrayed something deeper. Rage. Guilt. A haunting. âWhat did he do to you?â she whispered. Alexander turned away, running a hand through his hair before facing her again. âHe was my mentor once. My fatherâs ally. The man who taught me the rules of survival in a world that doesnât forgive weakness.â He paused, breathing deeply. âI was seventeen when I met him. I idolized him at first. He was sharp, powerful, untouchable. But underneath the charm, Lucien was a snakeâpoisonous and cold. He didnât care about loyalty. He cared about control.â âWhat happened?â she asked softly. Alexander laughed bitterly. âHe tri
The night after their confession passed like a dream suspended in fragile starlight. For the first time in what felt like forever, Isabella Laurent woke up feeling safe. Not because she was hidden away in Alexanderâs sprawling estate, surrounded by state-of-the-art security and guards trained to killâbut because of the steady warmth beside her. The heartbeat that thundered like a vow as he held her close. The soft sound of his breathing that matched her own. She turned slightly under the thick sheets, eyes scanning his face. In sleep, Alexander looked⊠younger. The hard lines of power and calculated dominance melted away, revealing a man not broken but rebuiltâby loss, by purpose, and now, by her. And she was falling for him. Deeper, faster, harder. With every stolen moment. He stirred as if he could feel her gaze, his eyes fluttering open. âGood morning,â she whispered. âMmm,â he murmured, lips brushing her forehead. âIf every morning starts like this, I might just consider ta
The ride back to the estate was cloaked in a dense silence. Not the heavy, uncomfortable kind, but the kind that builds when two hearts are beating too fast for words. Isabella stared down at the lockbox resting on her lap. It was surprisingly heavyâperhaps from the weight of secrets, not just the metal. Her auntâs appearance had rattled something deep in her. Not just confusion or fear⊠but possibility. Could her entire life have been a lie? Was her mother really just another player in a much larger game? And what did that make her? She glanced at Alexander. One hand on the wheel, jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But she could see itâhe was fighting the urge to spiral into protectiveness. He always did when something threatened her world. âYou donât have to fix this for me,â she whispered. He glanced at her, surprised. âI know.â âBut you want to.â He sighed, his voice low. âIâd burn down everything just to keep you safe.â Isabella reached over, placing her hand ge
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of Montclair Manor, its once-grand facade now faded with time and neglect. Ivy clawed up the sides of the building, like nature had tried to reclaim what power had once built. Isabella stared out the window, her breath caught somewhere between awe and apprehension. âIt looks⊠haunted,â she murmured. Alexander stepped out first and came around to open her door. âMost powerful places are.â She took his hand and stepped into the crisp morning air. The manor loomed over them like a monument to a forgotten empire, and yet, despite the silence, something about it whispered of memories still clinging to the walls. The key her mother left was warm in her palm, almost pulsing like it remembered the hands that once held it. Alexander glanced at the iron gate. âNo security. No staff.â Isabella nodded slowly. âIt was abandoned after my grandmother passed. My mother never spoke of it. Just once, she told me: âThat house swallows what it loves.ââ Alex
The moon hung low, its silver light spilling across the grounds of Montclair Manor. Isabella sat by the window, staring out into the sprawling garden, now shrouded in the cold darkness of night. Her fingers absently traced the edges of the book that had become a constant companionâa reminder of everything she had lost and everything she stood to gain. The past few days had been a blur of uncertainty. Valerieâs warning still echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the world she had been born into but had never truly understood. âWhen you love someone like him, he becomes your weakness.â Isabella shut her eyes, trying to block out the thought. She wasnât sure if Valerieâs words were meant as a warning or a challenge. Alexander, standing beside her, had been nothing but supportive, but Isabella couldnât shake the nagging feeling that every moment they spent together made her more vulnerable. But loveâreal loveâwas never meant to make you weaker. Was it? The door creaked open, and
The morning after their shared confession arrived with soft golden light bleeding through the sheer curtains of Isabellaâs room. A gentle breeze stirred the fabric, carrying the scent of roses from the garden below. The world outside was peaceful, but Isabellaâs heart raced with a quiet, stirring energy. She lay beneath the crisp sheets, her body still warm from Alexanderâs embrace hours ago. Though heâd left her room before dawn out of respect and routine, his scent lingered faintly on her pillowâcitrusy, clean, and undeniably him. A part of her missed the weight of his presence already, but the thought of last night sent a tingle down her spine. It hadnât been passionate in the traditional sense; no frantic hands or whispered promises of forever. It had been deeper, a shared vulnerability that peeled away another layer of fear. He had made her feel seenâsafe. And yet, with the safety came a nervous flutter. What now? Isabella rose from the bed slowly, wrapping a silk robe around
The estate was quiet that night, the kind of silence that blankets everything like fresh snow. Isabella stood by the floor-length window of her bedroom, staring out at the moonlit gardens below. Her fingers held a cup of lukewarm tea sheâd forgotten to drink, and her heart was heavy with thoughts she couldnât quite untangle. Her conversation with Julian earlier still echoed in her mind. If you donât want to be your father, then what do you want to be? She didnât know the answerânot yet. But for the first time, she was beginning to realize that the question itself was a gift. She had a choice. Her father had controlled everything, including her future. But now, she held the reins. Still, it terrified her. A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. âCome in,â she said without looking. She didnât need to. She already knew it was him. Alexander stepped inside with the ease of a man who didnât need permission anymore. There was something magnetic about him tonightâsometh
The battlefield was silent.Ryan exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as he surveyed the wreckage. The bodies of Black Sun operatives lay scattered across the tarmac, their reign of terror finally over. The jet they had planned to use for their escape was now a smoldering heap of metal, rendered useless by Lenaâs sabotage.Sophia stepped up beside him, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She was covered in dust and sweat, her breathing still ragged, but her eyes held the same fierce determination he had always admired.âItâs over,â she whispered.Ryan nodded. âYeah. It is.âBut deep inside, he knew that nothing truly ended.There would always be another enemy lurking in the shadows, another mission calling his name. Yet, for the first time in years, he felt a sense of completion. A war had been foughtâand won.Dante approached, wiping blood from his knife before sliding it back into its sheath. âI counted twelve bodies. I think thatâs a record for me.âSophia shot him a
The air was thick with tension as Ryan stood over Catherine, her wrists bound with zip ties. She glared at him, defiant even in defeat. The gunfire had stopped, and the only sounds in the dimly lit compound were the echoes of footsteps and the ragged breathing of his team.Sophia stood beside him, her expression unreadable. Lena and Dante secured the exits, ensuring no one else would escape. They had won this battleâbut the war wasnât over yet.Ryan knelt in front of Catherine, his voice dangerously calm. âStart talking.âCatherine scoffed, her lip curling in amusement. âYouâre still as stubborn as ever, Ryan.âHe grabbed her by the collar, pulling her closer. âYou leaked our location. You set us up. Tell me who youâre working for.âHer smirk didnât waver, but her eyes darkened. âYou already know, donât you?âRyanâs jaw tightened. He had his suspicions, but he needed confirmation.Lena stepped forward, her laptop open in her arms. âI traced her communications. Sheâs been in direct con
The night had fallen with a heavy silence, but it wasnât the kind of quiet that calms the mindâit was the kind that gnawed at the edges of reality, reminding Ryan that everything was still unraveling. Every corner, every shadow could be hiding something worse than what he had already faced.They had just left the warehouse, Viktor Petrovâs body now nothing more than a dark memory behind them. Still, Ryanâs heart raced with the knowledge that something bigger was brewing. He could feel it in his bones.Sophia, sitting in the passenger seat, was unusually quiet. He had expected her to ask more questions, but the calmness in her voice when she spoke broke the tension between them.âDo you think he was lying?â she asked, her voice soft yet steady.Ryanâs eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, ensuring they werenât being followed. âNo, I think Petrov knew exactly what he was saying. There are bigger players, and they wonât just vanish because we killed a few of their own.âShe turned her hea
The mansionâs eerie silence was broken only by the distant wail of sirens. Ryan exhaled slowly, the weight of the past hour settling in his chest. Nikolai Volkov was dead. The man who had tormented them, orchestrated attacks, and played with lives like a puppeteerâgone.And yet, the fight wasnât over.Sophia clung to Ryanâs arm, her breath uneven. âIs it⊠really over?âRyan glanced down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. âFor now.âLena approached, scanning the scene. âCops will be here in less than five minutes. We need to disappear.âDante nodded. âNo way weâre explaining this mess.â He gestured toward Nikolaiâs lifeless body.Ryan agreed. There was no time to linger. âLetâs move.âSophia hesitated. âBut⊠what if they come after us?âRyanâs grip on her tightened. âThey wonât.âHe would make sure of it.---The EscapeGetting out of the mansion was easy; avoiding the police wasnât. Sirens grew louder, blue and red lights flashing through the trees.âShortcut,â Dan
The air in the warehouse turned suffocating. The sight of Sophiaâbound, helpless, and at the mercy of Nikolai Volkovâsent a dangerous fire surging through Ryanâs veins.Lena swore under her breath, stepping closer to the laptop. âThat bastardâŠâDante clenched his jaw. âThis was his play all along.âRyan didnât respond. His entire focus was on the smirking man on the screen.âLet her go, Nikolai,â Ryanâs voice was calmâtoo calm. A sign of the storm brewing beneath.Nikolai chuckled. âOh, Ryan. You know itâs not that simple.â He adjusted his cuffs, as if they were discussing business. âYou came for me. But Iâve had my eyes on you for much longer.âRyanâs fists clenched. âWhat do you want?ââAn exchange,â Nikolai said smoothly. âYour life⊠for hers.âSilence.Dante swore. âThis guy is insane.âLena folded her arms. âAnd what? You expect Ryan to just walk in there and hand himself over?âNikolai smirked. âYes.âRyanâs expression remained unreadable. But inside, gears were turning. He wasn
The city never slept, but tonight, it felt like a ticking time bomb. The attack on the safe house had proven one thingâNikolai Volkov wasnât just making threats. He was moving. Fast.Ryan stood by the broken window, staring at the burning wreckage below. The acrid scent of smoke clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. His jaw tightened. If Nikolai wanted war, heâd get one.Lena tossed a spent magazine onto the table, loading a fresh one into her gun. âWe need to relocate. Now.âDante, leaning against the counter with a cut on his cheek, smirked. âAnd go where? Itâs not like we have a long list of safe houses left.âRyan turned to them. âWeâre not running.âLena arched a brow. âThen whatâs the plan?âRyanâs grip tightened around his gun. âWe take the fight to him.â---Hunting the HunterTracking Nikolai was no easy feat. He was a ghost, but ghosts always left shadows behind.Ryan called in a favor. A hacker named Felix.They met in a rundown bar, the kind where nobod
The weight of the revelation settled like a storm cloud over the safe house. Nikolai Volkov. A name no one had heard before, yet it now loomed over them like a death sentence.Ryan stared at the name on the screen, his mind already racing ahead. If Nikolai had been waiting in the shadows all this time, what was he waiting for?Lena paced the room, her expression tight. âWe need to move. Staying here is a mistake.âDante sighed. âI second that. Weâre sitting ducks.âRyan didnât respond immediately. He was still processing Sophiaâs warning. She wouldnât have come unless the threat was real.Lena stopped pacing and turned to him. âRyan, we have to do something.âHe finally looked up. âI know.âDante leaned forward. âThen whatâs the plan, boss?âRyanâs jaw clenched. âWe make the first move.â---A Meeting with the DevilTracking down Nikolai Volkov wasnât going to be easy. Unlike his late brother, he wasnât a man who enjoyed the spotlight. He was a ghost, a name whispered in the underworl
The city was on edge.With Volkov gone, a power vacuum had been left in his wake. Rival syndicates had wasted no time moving in, each one vying for control over his crumbling empire.Ryan had no interest in the fight.He had spent years building his own worldâone that wasnât dictated by the endless cycle of bloodshed and betrayal. But now, standing in the dimly lit safe house, he realized that escape was never truly an option.Lena sat at the table, absently twirling a knife between her fingers. Dante leaned against the wall, his usual smirk absent for once.The air was thick with unspoken words.âWe need to decide our next move,â Lena said, breaking the silence.Ryan exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. âWe stay out of it.âDante let out a low whistle. âThatâs cute, but you do realize thatâs not how this works, right?âRyan shot him a look.Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender. âHey, Iâm just sayingâpeople are already looking to you as the next big player.âLenaâs gaze dark
The world felt strangely silent.Ryan stood at the edge of the ruined shipping port, the scent of smoke and gunpowder lingering in the air. The waves crashed against the docks, a rhythmic contrast to the chaos that had unfolded just hours ago.Volkov was dead. His empire shattered.And yet, the weight on Ryanâs shoulders refused to lift.Lena stepped beside him, arms crossed. She had patched up the wound on his shoulder, but he could tell she was still watching him with concern.âYouâre quiet,â she said.Ryan exhaled, his grip tightening on the railing. âJust thinking.âDante walked up behind them, rubbing his neck. âWe should be celebrating. We pulled off the impossible.âLena shot him a tired look. âWe barely made it out alive.âDante smirked. âThatâs kind of our thing, isnât it?âRyan shook his head. âThereâs still one loose end.âLenaâs expression darkened. âThe leak.âSomeone had sold them out before the attack on Volkovâs hideout. Someone had warned him they were coming.And Rya