LOGINWhen Isobel, Brielle’s sister who is set to marry the powerful and influential Ace Reynolds, suddenly goes missing, Brielle must fill in for her sister and marry him in her place until she is found. Ace Reynolds is popularly known as Ruler Of Five Kingdoms, that is, he heads five biggest mafia families across the globe. Hence, his position is the most sought after along with his life. However, the only thing Brielle had frequently heard about him was that; he wasn't just ruthless, he was deadly. Deadly like the rush of a wave. How was eighteen years old Brielle, who was just starting her life, going to marry such a man and most importantly, live with as his wife?
View MoreWarmth. That’s the first sensation that filters through the haze of sleep. Not just the warmth of the sun spilling through the slightly parted curtains of our hidden coastal cottage, painting stripes of gold across the simple wooden floor. It’s the warmth radiating from the solid wall of muscle pressed against my back. The heavy, possessive weight of Ace’s arm draped over my waist, his hand splayed possessively low on my stomach, fingers twitching faintly even in sleep. His breath is a steady, warm rhythm against the nape of my neck, stirring the fine hairs there. For a long, luxurious moment, I simply exist within this cocoon. Safe. Sheltered. *His*.A slow smile spreads across my face, so wide it feels like it might crack the remnants of the girl I used to be. The girl who dreamed of hockey captains and vanilla for the first time. The girl who thought the worst thing that could happen was a bad grade or a missed party. That girl feels like a character from someone else’s story now,
The conversation deepens over a second glass. Rogue details the history of the Key – forged by a paranoid Azura Don centuries ago, the specific vault it accesses deep beneath a ruined Azura stronghold in Hokkaido, now buried and warded. He explains Elias Vance learned the destruction ritual – involving submerging the Key in a specific volcanic pool under a full moon – from Anya herself, who stole the knowledge. Silas stands stiffly, chastened, occasionally adding grim details about the dangers still lurking around the Key's legend – rogue factions, greedy collectors. The atmosphere shifts from confrontation to wary collaboration. Ace remains guarded but engaged, the revelation about his mother a seismic shift in his understanding of his own past.The details Rogue laid out were intricate, laced with history and danger, but they held the ring of truth. The volcanic pool, the ritual under the moon, the specific location – it wasn't just plausible; it felt like the kind of arcane safegua
He took another sip of scotch, his gaze distant, lost in memory. "She lived under our protection for years. Raised her son. Kept her head down. We became her family, of a sort. Elias… he grew fond of her. Protective. Like a daughter." Rogue’s eyes snapped back to me, sharp and clear. "He *was* fond of her. When she… when she was taken from us, by that brute you called father…" A flicker of genuine, cold anger passed over Rogue’s scarred face. "Elias wanted vengeance. Wanted to burn your father’s world down. But Anya… before she died, she made him promise. Promise to leave you out of it. To let you live, if you could. She believed the cycle had to end."The pieces were crashing together with brutal, heartbreaking clarity. My mother’s fear, her isolation, her whispered warnings about men who owned shadows. Her desperate attempts to shield me. Her death… not just at my father’s hands, but under the shadow of a past she’d tried so desperately to escape. And this man, Elias Vance, the Thir
A ghost of a smile touched Rogue’s lips, not reaching his eyes. "Point taken. The audience is dismissed." He didn’t raise his voice, but the effect was immediate. Silas hesitated, looking like he wanted to protest, but one icy glance from Rogue silenced him. He jerked his head, and the men around the perimeter melted back into the deeper shadows near the walls, disappearing like wraiths. Only Silas remained, hovering awkwardly a few feet behind Rogue, radiating resentment."Better?" Rogue asked, turning his attention back to me. He gestured towards the far end of the warehouse, where a small, incongruous island of light and relative order existed. An old, scarred oak desk, two heavy leather armchairs, and a sideboard holding crystal decanters glinted under a single, suspended industrial lamp. "Join me. We have much to discuss. And I find difficult conversations flow easier with good scotch."Scotch. An offer of hospitality in the belly of the beast. Another move designed to unsettle.


















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