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Chapter Thirty: Lucien POV

作者: Lovelypert
last update 公開日: 2026-06-05 04:01:12

The Harmon secondary property is forty minutes south of Varenholm on a road that steadily stops behaving like a road. It shifts from paved surface to gravel, then to packed dirt, and finally to something closer to intention than infrastructure. The gate at the end has not been opened in months, judging by the rust and the stillness around it.

Faye’s mother has the key. She produced it earlier with the same calm precision she uses for everything, as if it had always been in her hand and only now
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  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter fifty one: Lucien POV

    Anton Reves has a fourteen-year-old daughter.The realization settles over the operations room while morning light spills through the eastern windows and the compound adjusts around a new variable none of us expected. Faye sits beside me, very still in the genuine way the kind of stillness that means her mind is moving too fast for her body to follow.Reth stands near the door with the careful expression that means the situation has more layers than he has counted yet. Nadia is by the window. My mother has lowered her tea. Marcus leans against the wall without his newspaper, which means even he considers this moment too important for the performance of normalcy.Her name is Sera.Three words from Anton Reves after the Alderman meeting. Three words that carried more weight than he admitted at the time."He knew the whole time," Faye says evenly."Possibly," I answer. "Or he learned recently.""The filing went in this morning," she says. "The same morning Kelsh was arrested and the liqu

  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter Fifty: Faye POV

    At four-thirty in the morning, the compound has the exhausted stillness of a place finally standing down from crisis.Marcus meets us at the gate. He studies Nadia for four seconds, then looks at Lucien.“Clean?” he asks.“Clean,” Lucien says.Marcus nods once. To Nadia: “You drove them back.”“Yes.”“Good.”That is his version of welcome.My mother is in the operations room with tea already prepared and the monitoring screens still active. She looks at Nadia carefully.“You have Dmitri’s jaw,” she says.“So I’ve been told,” Nadia answers.“Tea?”“Please.”And that is how Nadia Sorel enters the compound: at four-thirty in the morning, accepted through tea and observation by the woman who built survival systems here for twenty-nine years.I sit beside Lucien at the operations table while Nadia stands at the window studying the courtyard like she is trying to understand whether safety can actually exist somewhere.“Gregor’s testimony?” Lucien asks.“He’ll remain in protective custody th

  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter forty nine: Lucien POV

    Four hours from Washington to Varenholm if you obey traffic law.Nadia drives. I sit in the passenger seat because my hands need something to do and the wheel is the something. Faye is in the back with her phone, managing the legal team, the regulatory confirmations, and updates from Reth. Reth follows in the second vehicle behind us while the city disappears in the mirrors.Gregor went outside twenty minutes ago and did not come back.I sit with that fact carefully. Gregor is sixty one years old. He spent twelve years inside Marre’s operation and the last two weeks inside my compound learning how to exist there again. He walked outside. Eight of Kelsh’s unofficial people arrived on the perimeter road shortly afterward.Those facts are connected.“He knew they were coming,” I say.Nadia glances at me.“Gregor,” I continue. “He knew Kelsh had reach inside the network. He spent years there. He would have understood exactly what Kelsh was capable of. I pause. “He went outside because he

  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter forty nine: Lucien POV

    Four hours from Washington to Varenholm if you obey traffic law.Nadia drives. I sit in the passenger seat because my hands need something to do and the wheel is the something. Faye is in the back with her phone, managing the legal team, the regulatory confirmations, and updates from Reth. Reth follows in the second vehicle behind us while the city disappears in the mirrors.Gregor went outside twenty minutes ago and did not come back.I sit with that fact carefully. Gregor is sixty one years old. He spent twelve years inside Marre’s operation and the last two weeks inside my compound learning how to exist there again. He walked outside. Eight of Kelsh’s unofficial people arrived on the perimeter road shortly afterward.Those facts are connected.“He knew they were coming,” I say.Nadia glances at me.“Gregor,” I continue. “He knew Kelsh had reach inside the network. He spent years there. He would have understood exactly what Kelsh was capable of. I pause. “He went outside because he

  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter forty eight: Faye POV

    The vehicle at the top of the ramp does not move.It sits at the entrance with its headlights cutting down into the parking structure, two beams of light in the underground dark, illuminating the ramp but not reaching us. Not surveillance. Surveillance does not announce itself with headlights. This is something that wants to be seen. Something that is communicating: we know where you are.Nadia's composure is back. The fracture lasted four seconds and is now fully sealed the three years of federal analytical training reasserting itself over whatever the phone call produced in the personal layer beneath it."How many?" Lucien says. Completely operational. No other register available to him right now, which is correct."The call said two vehicles," Nadia says. "One at the entrance. One at the street level exit on the north side." She looks at her phone. "My associate in the second vehicle is at the north exit. He can't move them.""He shouldn't try," Lucien says. "Moving them tells us n

  • Biker's Temptation:Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King   Chapter forty seven: Lucien POV

    Nadia Sorel looks like me.That is the first thing, the involuntary inventory that I apparently do now, that I did with Dmitri and that I am doing here, in the lobby of a Washington hotel at two-fifteen in the morning with the rain starting again outside. Not dramatically. The jaw and the eyes and the specific quality of stillness that I have always considered entirely mine because I had no frame of reference for where it came from.It came from somewhere.She is thirty-six years old and she is standing in my hotel lobby in a dark jacket with the composed, unhurried attention of someone who has been planning this moment for a long time and is now executing it with the focused clarity of a person who does not have time for anything except the essential.She looks at me.I look at her."Yes," she says, answering the question I have not asked. "Same father.""We don't know that yet," I say."I know it," she says. "I've been looking at your photographs for fifteen years. I know it the way

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