MasukNadia Laurent wakes up after a mysterious accident with six months of her memory gone—and a husband she doesn't remember marrying. Lucien Voss is powerful, ruthless, and dangerously secretive. He claims Nadia once loved him and chose to become his wife, but she remembers nothing about their relationship. Then Nadia discovers a recording made by her own hand before the accident: “Don't trust anyone. Not even Lucien.” Determined to uncover the truth, Nadia investigates the life she can no longer remember and discovers that she and Lucien had been secretly working together to expose a powerful organization. But the deeper she digs, the more disturbing the truth becomes. Her memory loss wasn't entirely accidental. Someone betrayed her. Someone is still hunting her. And the secrets she buried may destroy the man she is beginning to fall in love with. As Nadia follows the clues left behind by her forgotten self, she discovers that her past wasn't something that happened to her—it was a carefully designed plan. Now she must uncover the mastermind before they find her first. But the greatest revelation awaits her at the end: Nadia didn't erase her memories to protect herself. She erased them to protect Lucien.
Lihat lebih banyakThe roar of the helicopter’s twin engines dissolved into a ringing, suffocating static in my ears.The rain lashed against my face, cold as needles, but the blood in my veins felt completely frozen. I stared at the Director—the shadow who had built my cover, trained my hands to kill, and engineered my erased memories—standing immaculately dry under his black umbrella in the mud of the railyard."A secondary explosive," I repeated, my voice dropping into a flat, terrifying void.Lucien’s weight pressed heavily against my shoulder, his broad chest heaving with every shallow breath. His jaw set so hard the muscle looked ready to snap. His dark eyes didn't look at the Director; they looked at me, filled with a ferocious, silent warning.*Don't surrender.*"Four years ago, after the Zurich operation," the Director explained smoothly, gesturing with his manicured hand toward the chopper. "Lucien required extensive emergency reconstruction on his left shoulder and thoracic wall. My chief sur
"One. Two. Three. Four."The sickening crunch of cartilage snapping beneath the heel of my palm echoed through the suffocating silence of the dispatch tower."Don't you dare," I snarled, locking my elbows and throwing my entire body weight into the chest compressions. "Don't you dare die on me now, Lucien!"His massive chest caved and rebounded beneath my frantic rhythm, but his flesh was already growing terrifyingly cold. The blood pouring from the severed artery in his arm had formed a massive, expanding crimson lake across the concrete floor, soaking through my ripped clothes and pooling around my knees.I stopped compressions just long enough to press my bloody fingers against his carotid artery.Nothing. The man who had burned down the European underworld to save my life was an empty vessel.I spun around, grabbing the dead defibrillator unit. I hammered my fist against the digital interface, praying for a latent charge, but the screen remained a dull, lifeless black. The interna
The auto-injector punched through my soaked coat and bit directly into the center of my sternum.There was no warmth, no cinematic fading of the light. There was only a sudden, violent crack of ice blooming inside my chest. It felt as though a massive, invisible hand had reached through my ribs and crushed the muscle flat. The breath I had just drawn paralyzed in my lungs.I didn't fall. Lucien caught me.His heavy, blood-soaked arms wrapped around my collapsing frame, lowering me gently onto the cold steel of the ruined desk. My vision tunneled, the edges of the dispatch tower dissolving into a creeping gray static.But my hearing—the final sense to surrender to the void—remained terrifyingly sharp.A melodic, piercing chime echoed from Dante’s burner phone on the floor. I couldn't move my neck to look, but I didn't need to. I knew the color had shifted from violent red to definitive green."BIOMETRIC FLATLINE CONFIRMED.""ESCROW SEALED.""FUNDS DISBURSED."My past self’s sociopathic
The bullets didn't hit me.Before my scream could even fully leave my throat, the world dissolved into a violent blur of motion and deafening noise. Lucien didn't dive for cover. He didn't pull his weapon. He operated on a terrifying, instinctual frequency of pure, unfiltered violence.With a guttural roar, Lucien kicked the underside of the heavy steel desk with earth-shattering force.The massive piece of furniture flipped upward, acting as a two-hundred-pound steel shield exactly as Dante squeezed the trigger. A hailstorm of 9mm rounds shredded the air, tearing into the underside of the desk and sparking violently against the metal. The sheer kinetic impact of the bullets drove the desk backward, pinning me against the concrete wall, but it held.Dante’s submachine gun clicked empty.In that microsecond of dead silence, Lucien vaulted over the ruined desk like a predatory shadow.Dante was a seasoned veteran of the Chechen wars, a man who had survived a decade in the underworld’s b












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