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. “It looks… haunted,” she murmured. Alexander stepped out first and came around to open her door. “Most powerful places are.” 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. “No security. No staff.” Isabella nodded slowly. “It was abandoned after my grandmother passed. My mother never spoke of it. Just once, she told me: ‘That house swallows what it loves.’” 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 companion—a reminder of everything she had lost and everything she stood to gain. The past few days had been a blur of uncertainty. Valerie’s warning still echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder of the world she had been born into but had never truly understood. “When you love someone like him, he becomes your weakness.” Isabella shut her eyes, trying to block out the thought. She wasn’t sure if Valerie’s words were meant as a warning or a challenge. Alexander, standing beside her, had been nothing but supportive, but Isabella couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that every moment they spent together made her more vulnerable. But love—real love—was 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 Isabella’s room. A gentle breeze stirred the fabric, carrying the scent of roses from the garden below. The world outside was peaceful, but Isabella’s heart raced with a quiet, stirring energy. She lay beneath the crisp sheets, her body still warm from Alexander’s embrace hours ago. Though he’d left her room before dawn out of respect and routine, his scent lingered faintly on her pillow—citrusy, 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 hadn’t 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 seen—safe. 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 she’d forgotten to drink, and her heart was heavy with thoughts she couldn’t quite untangle. Her conversation with Julian earlier still echoed in her mind. If you don’t want to be your father, then what do you want to be? She didn’t know the answer—not 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. “Come in,” she said without looking. She didn’t need to. She already knew it was him. Alexander stepped inside with the ease of a man who didn’t need permission anymore. There was something magnetic about him tonight—someth
The sky outside the estate had turned overcast, casting the once-golden gardens in a gray, muted tone. The kind of weather that invited warm blankets, unread books, and long, unspoken thoughts. Isabella sat curled on the settee in the reading room, her phone abandoned beside her. She hadn’t touched it in hours. The internet was still ablaze with speculations and rumors. The media had spun her relationship into a political scandal, a PR stunt, a desperate power grab. But none of it mattered now. Because Alexander Blackwood had proposed. And for one terrifying, beautiful moment, time had stopped. She hadn’t said yes. Not yet. But she hadn’t said no either. Her fingers absently traced the edge of the velvet cushion as she replayed his words over and over again. “Not for strategy. Not to silence the tabloids. But because I love you.” That was what undid her. Not the timing. Not the chaos. But how simple and unguarded his confession had been. “Still hiding in here?” His voice, warm
The morning sun filtered softly through the lace curtains of the Blackwood estate, painting delicate patterns on the bedroom floor. Isabella lay still, eyes closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. She wasn’t asleep, but she wasn’t quite ready to face the day either. Not yet. Not when her heart was still echoing from last night’s confession. Not when her lips still tingled from Alexander’s kiss. Not when her entire life had changed with just one whispered “yes.” She rolled over in bed, the satin sheets cool against her skin, and reached for the small velvet box on her nightstand. The ring hadn’t left her finger since the moment he slid it on. It wasn’t ostentatious. It wasn’t massive or encrusted with diamonds. It was elegant. Timeless. A single oval sapphire nestled between two smaller diamonds—a gem that shimmered deep blue, like the color of Alexander’s eyes when he was entirely, soulfully serious. Isabella turned it slowly on her finger. They hadn’t told anyone yet. It fe
The morning sun spilled through the open terrace doors, bathing the room in gold. A gentle breeze stirred the linen curtains, and birds chirped cheerfully in the distance. Isabella stirred under the covers, feeling the warmth of Alexander beside her. He was still asleep, chest rising and falling in rhythm, one arm draped over her waist possessively, like even in his sleep, he needed to know she was there. She smiled to herself. This was peace. The kind that couldn’t be bought or faked. The kind they had built in stolen moments and slow glances, in vulnerability and trust. Her hand moved to the sapphire ring on her finger. Still there. Still shimmering. Real. Just as she was about to drift back into sleep, her phone—forgotten and ignored on the side table for over twenty-four hours—buzzed. The sound was jarring in the silence, like a siren in a cathedral. Alexander didn’t wake. He merely shifted slightly, pressing a sleepy kiss to her shoulder. Isabella sighed, untangled herself
The morning light filtered through the large windows, casting soft shadows across the spacious bedroom. Isabella lay still in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts tangled in the events of the previous days. The sterile scent of the hospital, the sight of her mother in that fragile state, and her father’s exhausted face all still lingered in her mind. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. She hadn’t been able to think of much else since her mother was admitted, and even now, as she sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of it all pressed heavily on her chest. Beside her, Alexander stirred. He was still asleep, a peaceful expression on his face, his tousled dark hair falling across his forehead. He had stayed with her the entire night, never once leaving her side. She had never needed anyone more, and yet, she wasn’t sure how to express the depth of her gratitude. The fear was still there, creeping beneath the surface, but Alexander’s presence provided a strange comfort. She turned
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 Lena’s 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.“It’s over,” she whispered.Ryan nodded. “Yeah. It is.”But 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 fought—and won.Dante approached, wiping blood from his knife before sliding it back into its sheath. “I counted twelve bodies. I think that’s a record for me.”Sophia 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 battle—but the war wasn’t over yet.Ryan knelt in front of Catherine, his voice dangerously calm. “Start talking.”Catherine scoffed, her lip curling in amusement. “You’re still as stubborn as ever, Ryan.”He grabbed her by the collar, pulling her closer. “You leaked our location. You set us up. Tell me who you’re working for.”Her smirk didn’t waver, but her eyes darkened. “You already know, don’t you?”Ryan’s jaw tightened. He had his suspicions, but he needed confirmation.Lena stepped forward, her laptop open in her arms. “I traced her communications. She’s been in direct con
The night had fallen with a heavy silence, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that calms the mind—it 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 Petrov’s body now nothing more than a dark memory behind them. Still, Ryan’s 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.“Do you think he was lying?” she asked, her voice soft yet steady.Ryan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, ensuring they weren’t being followed. “No, I think Petrov knew exactly what he was saying. There are bigger players, and they won’t just vanish because we killed a few of their own.”She turned her hea
The mansion’s 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 puppeteer—gone.And yet, the fight wasn’t over.Sophia clung to Ryan’s arm, her breath uneven. “Is it… really over?”Ryan glanced down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “For now.”Lena approached, scanning the scene. “Cops will be here in less than five minutes. We need to disappear.”Dante nodded. “No way we’re explaining this mess.” He gestured toward Nikolai’s lifeless body.Ryan agreed. There was no time to linger. “Let’s move.”Sophia hesitated. “But… what if they come after us?”Ryan’s grip on her tightened. “They won’t.”He would make sure of it.---The EscapeGetting out of the mansion was easy; avoiding the police wasn’t. Sirens grew louder, blue and red lights flashing through the trees.“Shortcut,” Dan
The air in the warehouse turned suffocating. The sight of Sophia—bound, helpless, and at the mercy of Nikolai Volkov—sent a dangerous fire surging through Ryan’s veins.Lena swore under her breath, stepping closer to the laptop. “That bastard…”Dante clenched his jaw. “This was his play all along.”Ryan didn’t respond. His entire focus was on the smirking man on the screen.“Let her go, Nikolai,” Ryan’s voice was calm—too calm. A sign of the storm brewing beneath.Nikolai chuckled. “Oh, Ryan. You know it’s not that simple.” He adjusted his cuffs, as if they were discussing business. “You came for me. But I’ve had my eyes on you for much longer.”Ryan’s fists clenched. “What do you want?”“An exchange,” Nikolai said smoothly. “Your life… for hers.”Silence.Dante swore. “This guy is insane.”Lena folded her arms. “And what? You expect Ryan to just walk in there and hand himself over?”Nikolai smirked. “Yes.”Ryan’s 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 thing—Nikolai Volkov wasn’t 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, he’d get one.Lena tossed a spent magazine onto the table, loading a fresh one into her gun. “We need to relocate. Now.”Dante, leaning against the counter with a cut on his cheek, smirked. “And go where? It’s not like we have a long list of safe houses left.”Ryan turned to them. “We’re not running.”Lena arched a brow. “Then what’s the plan?”Ryan’s grip tightened around his gun. “We take the fight to him.”---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. “We need to move. Staying here is a mistake.”Dante sighed. “I second that. We’re sitting ducks.”Ryan didn’t respond immediately. He was still processing Sophia’s warning. She wouldn’t have come unless the threat was real.Lena stopped pacing and turned to him. “Ryan, we have to do something.”He finally looked up. “I know.”Dante leaned forward. “Then what’s the plan, boss?”Ryan’s jaw clenched. “We make the first move.”---A Meeting with the DevilTracking down Nikolai Volkov wasn’t going to be easy. Unlike his late brother, he wasn’t 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 world—one that wasn’t 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.“We need to decide our next move,” Lena said, breaking the silence.Ryan exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “We stay out of it.”Dante let out a low whistle. “That’s cute, but you do realize that’s not how this works, right?”Ryan shot him a look.Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—people are already looking to you as the next big player.”Lena’s 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 Ryan’s 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.“You’re quiet,” she said.Ryan exhaled, his grip tightening on the railing. “Just thinking.”Dante walked up behind them, rubbing his neck. “We should be celebrating. We pulled off the impossible.”Lena shot him a tired look. “We barely made it out alive.”Dante smirked. “That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”Ryan shook his head. “There’s still one loose end.”Lena’s expression darkened. “The leak.”Someone had sold them out before the attack on Volkov’s hideout. Someone had warned him they were coming.And Rya