로그인Killian stood at the top of the stairs while the mansion buzzed around him like a kicked hive. Lights blazed in every hallway. Guards moved fast, radios crackling. Maids stood pressed against walls, eyes down, waiting for orders they knew would come. He watched it all for a long second, jaw tight, mind already turning over the pieces.Who had the codes. Who had the timing. Who had been close enough to her to make her trust them with a gate and a dead camera feed.He didn’t say any of it out loud. He didn’t need to.Marco came up the stairs two at a time, phone already in his hand. “Perimeter’s locked. No one in or out until we say.”Killian met his eyes. His voice came out flat, ice-cold, no heat left in it.“The traitor will be dealt with later. First priority is Luna.”Marco nodded once, sharp. No questions.Killian started down the stairs. “Get every man we have in the region on the road in the next ten minutes. Seal every route out of the valley—highways, back roads, service track
Killian left the meeting at one in the morning. The warehouse on the edge of the city was still thick with cigarette smoke and half-finished arguments about shipments, but he didn’t care. The deal could wait. Something had been sitting wrong in his gut since he’d driven out that afternoon, a low, restless pressure he couldn’t name and didn’t try to. He stood up mid-sentence, buttoned his dark jacket, and said, “We finish tomorrow.” No explanation. The other men just nodded, eyes lowered. They knew better than to ask.The drive back took almost four hours. Rain started halfway, drumming against the SUV. Killian sat in the back, one hand resting on his knee, staring at the black road ahead. Marco rode shotgun and kept quiet. The estate gates finally rolled open at two seventeen. Killian stepped out before the driver could circle around. He wanted to see her. That was all. Just walk into her room, look at her asleep, and let the tightness in his chest ease the way it always did.He went
I stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind me, palm flat against the wood until it caught without a sound. The hallway stretched ahead, dim and empty under the low amber lights along the baseboards. My shoulders pulled in tight. Every sense reached forward into the dark, listening for any shift in the silence that didn’t belong. There was nothing. Just me and the dark corridor and the garden waiting at the end of it.I walked quickly through the silent house. My shoes made almost no noise on the polished floor. I kept my breathing shallow, counting steps in my head to stay steady. One, two, three. The bundle Irina had given me pressed against my spine, warm from my body, solid like a promise I was finally cashing in. Left at the next junction. Past the tall window that overlooked the side lawn. I didn’t glance outside. Didn’t let my eyes wander. Just kept moving.The side door to the garden sat at the end of the east corridor, half-hidden behind a heavy velvet cur
He closed the distance.His lips pressed against mine and stayed there. Unhurried. Certain. Like everything he did. His hands stayed on my face, holding the angle exactly where he wanted it, and I stood completely still with my hands at my sides and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat.He pulled back slowly.His thumb traced my lower lip once."Be good," he said.He let go.Turned and walked out.The door clicked shut behind him.I stood exactly where he'd left me. My face still warm where his hands had been. My lips warm. The room suddenly very quiet.I pressed my fingers against my mouth and stood there in the silence.Why me.That was all. Just those two words sitting in the middle of my chest like something that had been there a long time and finally gotten too heavy to ignore.Why me.I was so tired.Not the kind of tired that sleep fixed. The other kind. The kind that went down into the bones and stayed there. The kind that made the idea of just stopping feel
I didn't sleep.Not a single hour.I lay on top of the blanket with my eyes fixed on the ceiling and my body rigid and my mind running the same loop over and over until the words stopped meaning anything. Five miles west. Road north. Bus station. Call the number. The loop wore grooves into my thoughts, smooth and automatic, the way prayers get worn smooth when someone says them long enough without believing anymore.At some point the sky outside my window shifted from black to dark grey. Then to the flat colorless light that came before actual dawn.I sat up.My neck ached. My eyes felt dry and gritty. I pressed my knuckles against them until the sting faded.I got dressed slowly. White shirt. Grey pants. The same things I always wore. Nothing different. Nothing that would make anyone look twice.I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. Stood at the mirror for a moment longer than I meant to. The face looking back at me was pale and hollow eyed and very still.I turn
Hello Lovelies, Thank you for your patience. Sorry for the confusion earlier. I had posted an author note about the chapter splitting process, but due to a small glitch it didn’t appear properly. The chapter adjustments are now completed and currently under review. If you had already read up to CHAPTER 88, that was the last chapter before the split. The chapters between 88 and 148 are simply the divided versions of the earlier chapters, so if you were already caught up before, you don’t need to unlock them again. The next new chapter will begin from CHAPTER 149, and new updates will start from tomorrow. Thank you so much for your patience, understanding, and for supporting this book. Your comments, gems, and love truly mean a lot to me. Now the story continues. 🩷
[Third-Person POV]Don Dario Vitiello sat behind his mahogany desk, looking every inch the weary king burdened by duty.The study was dim. Just the green banker's lamp and dying embers in the fireplace providing light.Dante stood by the door, hand resting on the brass handle."Go to her room," Dari
The knock wasn't Volkov's.His knock was heavy. Controlled. A single firm rap that made the door vibrate.This was different. Sharp. Hollow. The knock of someone afraid to deliver bad news.I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the empty armchair in the corner.It was past midnight.Volkov had lef
The dress Father chose was pink.Not soft pink. Not blush or rose or anything innocent.This was sharp, aggressive bubblegum. Cut low across my chest. Tight across my hips.The kind of dress a man picks for a trophy he wants displayed on a shelf.I stood in the foyer, gripping a small bejeweled purs
My lips were burning.I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with both hands gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, knuckles white from the pressure. The washcloth I'd been using lay crumpled in the basin, stained a sickly pink where my lipstick had mixed with the blood from where I'd scrubbed my







