The moonlight shone sharply through the cracks of the old iron roof. The faint scent of metal and old blood still lingered subtly. In the cold and empty room, Frederick stood with his back to the door. His body was upright like a steel beam, while a thin trail of cigarette smoke floated from his fingertips. Several scars of sharp objects were visible on his cheek area, believed to have been caused by shards of glass during his attack at Edgar’s hideout in Saint Petersburg.The sound of footsteps echoed as a muscular man with silver hair and piercing eyes like blades appeared from the shadows, dressed in a long dark gray wool coat. Behind him, two loyal henchmen stood guard.“Quite dramatic for a secret meeting. I hear your attempt to incapacitate Edgar and that damn Omega failed. Very unfortunate,” said Yuzinkhov, his voice heavy with a firm Russian accent, accompanied by a sneer full of cunning.Fredrick did not turn around. “That news spread faster and reached you like a storm. Let’
The sky over Saint Petersburg greeted them with a thin rain of ash from the old city’s chimneys. Raindrops danced on the windows, as if mourning the fate of the two silent figures sitting in a dark room filled with the scent of antiseptics and unhealed wounds.Harley clutched a small white blanket containing the lifeless little body. The child… their child… Just five days seeing the world. Five days of struggle. Five days of hope now frozen in time."Ed… he's cold… he's very cold…" Harley’s voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible.His body trembled not from the cold air, but from the reality that he couldn’t fight. The surgical wound on his stomach was still wet, still feeling as if it was wide open, now worsened by a much deeper wound—loss.Edgar stood beside the bed, wearing a dark hoodie, his face paler than usual. His hand pressed against the empty incubator glass. He wanted to be angry. But to whom? God? The world? Himself?“We’ve come this far… we’ve sacrificed Martin
His voice sounded like thunder shaking the night. Command shouts, warning gunfire, and the roaring engines of aircraft warming up filled the air. Jonathan ran as fast as he could, clutching Harley’s frail body and their crying baby tucked in a blanket, carried by one of his loyal guards.Tears mixed with drizzle, blurring his vision. Behind them, Edgar chased relentlessly, crashing through obstacles, his face tense and his breath heavy. They were only a dozen meters apart. But to Jonathan, that distance felt like a deadly chasm.“STOP, JONATHAN!” Edgar shouted, his voice breaking with anger and fear. “YOU’RE GOING TO KILL THEM!”Jonathan turned his head, and in a split second, his steps faltered. His feet slipped on the wet runway, almost causing Harley to fall from his arms. Harley let out a faint scream. Their baby cried hysterically. Jonathan tried to hold on, but his body was too weak, too panicked.They almost fell—At that moment, the first bullet erupted from the rifle of o
The air inside Kingston's office felt heavy as if it was sucking in all the oxygen around it. The crystal chandelier that usually radiates warmth now casts a cold light throughout the room. Kingston stood behind a large black desk, glaring at the screen that displayed news about Dima's suicide attempt, Yuzinkhov's fury, and most infuriating of all, Harley's childbirth. Martin stood near the door, holding his breath. Kingston slowly exhaled his cigarette smoke, his eyes resembling hellfire ready to consume the world.“He dares threaten me. Yuzinkhov dares to threaten me.” His voice was low and heavy, but it felt like the rumble of a storm.Martin spoke cautiously, “Sir... this could become a diplomatic disaster. The Yuzinkhov family has connections in the Kremlin, and... Hideko has started moving into the southern territories.”Kingston turned his body. His large hand slammed the table with full force, causing fine cracks to appear on the wooden surface.“That child!” he growled. “If o
A thin fog hovers over Lake Lucerne. Pine trees stand silently like mute witnesses to a winter that refuses to pass. Inside the villa, the warm air from the fireplace contrasts sharply with the cold hearts drifting apart.Harley stands on the balcony, hugging himself. The wind carries fragments of a letter he never finished. A letter to Mrs. Lee, containing apologies and hints that he wants to come home. But now, the paper is torn, just like his soul.In the morning, Jonathan walks through the backyard with a cup of coffee. As the wind blows through the lavender bushes, his eyes catch something—a scrap of paper wedged between the wooden fence. He bends down and picks it up.The writing is faint, but he is sharp enough to read the fragment of a sentence: "Mom, I miss you... But I'm scared... I want to come home."Jonathan's face hardens. His fingers clenched around the paper that nearly disintegrated from the dew. But as he returns inside the villa, his smile is calm again. Fake, but
Harley sat on the sofa in Jonathan's living room, wearing an oversized sweater that wrapped around his increasingly changing body. His eyes were empty, staring out the large window facing a small garden with wilted roses. Autumn leaves fell slowly as if time itself had stopped moving.Jonathan entered from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a warm cup of tea, a plate of biscuits, and a newspaper. He appeared calm as if nothing was wrong in his life. Yet beneath his gentle demeanor lay an obsession that was spiraling out of control."You haven't left the room all day, Harley," he said as he sat on the sofa beside him. "I know you're tired, but fresh air is good for you."Harley merely mumbled, his voice almost drowned by his own sighs."I'm fine..."Jonathan gazed at Harley with an overly intense expression of concern. He shifted closer, touching the back of Harley's cold hand."No, you’re not fine. You’ve lost those who didn’t deserve your love. But I’m here, Harley. I will always be h