The hot water cascaded over Isabella’s skin, washing away the remnants of the night. But no amount of warmth could erase the chill that Ryan’s actions had left behind. She clenched her fists, inhaling deeply. She wouldn’t be a victim. Not now. Not ever. After finishing her shower, she wrapped herself in a plush robe and stepped into the bedroom, only to find Alexander leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for her. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, his voice steady, controlled. Isabella met his gaze, searching for any trace of pity. But there was none—only that same unshakable intensity. "I'm fine." Alexander arched a brow. "Liar." She rolled her eyes. "I don’t need you hovering over me like some overprotective bodyguard." "Too bad. I’m not leaving your side until I know you're safe." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I can handle myself, Alexander." His jaw tightened. "Last night says otherwise." Her temper flared. "You think I wanted that to happen?" A muscle
Isabella lay sprawled on the luxurious couch in her penthouse, a glass of wine in hand as Chloe animatedly recounted the events of the previous night. The tension from Ryan’s attempt had settled, but Alexander’s unwavering presence still lingered in her mind. "And girl, let me tell you," Chloe gushed, flipping her silky hair over her shoulder, "the way Alexander stormed into that club, looking like he was about to set the entire place on fire? Whew! It was like something out of a drama. If I weren’t your best friend, I would have thrown myself at him." Isabella rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her wine. "Oh, please. As if he'd even notice you." Chloe gasped, feigning offense. "Excuse me? I’ll have you know that men always notice me." "Not the Blackwood Devil," Isabella shot back with a smirk. Chloe crossed her arms. "Well, he noticed you. And not just noticed—girl, he lost his damn mind over you. The way he was barking orders at his men, demanding the entire club’s CCTV footage li
The soft hum of the city outside Isabella’s penthouse was drowned by the steady tick of the clock on the wall. The large windows gave her a clear view of the skyline, but tonight, her mind was miles away from the glittering lights. She hadn’t heard from Alexander since that chaotic night at the club, and as much as she wanted to shake the memory of him rescuing her from Ryan, she couldn’t. It was like the image of him—hard, ruthless, yet somehow protective—kept replaying in her mind. The sudden buzz of her phone snapped her from her thoughts. Her stomach did a small flip when she saw the name on the screen. Alexander Blackwood. Taking a deep breath, Isabella swiped to answer, her heart rate picking up in the silence of her apartment. "Isabella," his deep voice rumbled through the line, his tone calm, but there was a sense of authority behind it. "I need to see you." She sat back in her chair, her mind racing. The last time they had been together was far from ordinary, and the way
Isabella stood in the elevator, her fingers nervously tapping on the polished steel railing as the hum of the machinery surrounded her. The last few days had been a blur of tension, business meetings, and complicated emotions. Alexander's words kept echoing in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried to push them away, they lingered like a shadow, casting doubt over the cold walls she’d spent years building around herself. She had come to terms with using Ryan, with playing the game and securing her revenge. But Alexander... his gaze, his presence—it made her question everything. Not just her plans but herself. What am I doing? The elevator doors opened, and Isabella was jolted out of her thoughts. She stepped into the sleek, modern lobby of Blackwood Tower, where the security personnel greeted her with a respectful nod. As she made her way across the polished marble floors, she couldn't ignore the uneasy flutter in her chest. She hadn't spoken to Alexander since their encounter i
Isabella’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked out of the elevator, the stark silence of Blackwood Tower only amplifying her thoughts. The conversation with Alexander had left her reeling—his words had struck a nerve deeper than she cared to admit. She had always prided herself on her self-sufficiency, on the calculated distance she kept from everyone, even the people closest to her. But with Alexander, everything was different. It unsettled her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out quickly, expecting a message from Chloe, but instead, it was an unknown number. Isabella hesitated for a moment, then pressed it to her ear. "Isabella." The voice on the other end made her blood run cold. "It’s Ryan." Her stomach dropped. She had hoped she was done with him, that their paths wouldn’t cross again after the disastrous night at the club. But apparently, fate had other plans. "What do you want, Ryan?" she asked, her voice icy, betraying n
The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of unspoken words. Isabella's lips still tingled from Alexander's kiss, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She had never let herself get this close to someone—never allowed herself to feel anything beyond control. And yet, here she was, staring at the man who could ruin everything she had built with a single move. Alexander stood before her, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. He was dangerous. Not just because of his power but because of the way he made her feel. “I should go,” she finally said, her voice steadier than she felt. He raised a brow. “Go where?” “Anywhere that isn’t here.” She exhaled, breaking eye contact as she took a step back. “You don’t control me, Alexander. And I don’t need your car, your protection, or your help.” His smirk was infuriatingly calm. “You’re stubborn.” “And you’re used to getting what you want,” she shot back. “
The Blackwood estate was quieter than usual that evening. Isabella stood by the tall window in the guest wing, her fingers curled around the delicate stem of a wine glass. The rich burgundy liquid inside remained untouched as she stared out into the fading horizon, her thoughts far too chaotic to enjoy anything. She hadn't seen Alexander since their tense exchange earlier that afternoon. Not after she had stormed out of the strategy room—furious, frustrated, and dangerously close to unraveling. He had told her to let it go. That revenge wasn’t everything. But how could she? After everything Ryan had done to her? After he tried to drug and ruin her? After he belittled her, discarded her, called her a gold digger while he enjoyed the fruits of the company she helped build? Forgiveness wasn’t an option. Letting go would be surrender. She needed control. She needed to burn Ryan’s empire to the ground and rebuild something stronger from the ashes. A soft knock on the door broke her t
Isabella hadn’t been able to sleep. Not after what Alexander said. The room was dimly lit with only the warm amber glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the plush furniture. She sat curled up on the edge of her bed, a robe cinched loosely around her waist, her mind spinning. “You’ve started to own me.” Those words had echoed in her head all night like a haunting melody she couldn’t silence. What did he mean by that? Why did it make her heart pound like she’d run a marathon? Why did it feel real, like something far beyond the safety of a contract or convenience? Her phone buzzed against the nightstand. She reached for it instinctively, expecting Chloe—or maybe a news notification about Orion Tech. Instead, her heart stuttered. ALEXANDER: Meet me in the garden. Now. Isabella stared at the message for a long moment. Now? It was nearly midnight. With a sigh, she got up, threw on a jacket, and tiptoed her way through the hallway of the estate, barefoot and quiet
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