All Chapters of The Devil's Game: Chapter 101 - Chapter 107

The mansion was quiet at night, but it was never truly still. Servants padded softly through halls on their shifts, the click of security boots echoed down tiled corridors, and the distant hum of generators ran beneath the estate like a pulse. Ayra had learned the rhythm of the house, its sleeping breath and subtle movements. Now, she used it.It still drives her mad, though. She lay in bed during the day, conserving her energy and forcing a facade of fragility. The maids thought she was still mourning. They were not wrong—she mourned her freedom, her old life, and the version of herself that once believed Lucian's indifference was safety. At night, she moved.Her first reconnaissance had been cautious. A trip to the kitchen for water. A long pause to study the security panel near the east stairwell. She memorized rotations—the older guard who limped slightly and took longer between rounds, the distracted maid who always took ten minutes longer on the second-floor sweep, likely due to

Ayra had known from the beginning that deception would be her greatest ally in this house. So far, her reconnaissance, planning, and cautious testing of Lucian’s fortress had all been cloaked under a mask of passivity. But now, with the satellite message from Eleanor fresh in her mind and the drug tucked into her drawer, it was time to escalate.She had to create a smokescreen. One that would blind the eyes constantly watching her and loosen the grip around her movements, even if only for a few precious minutes.The plan was simple in theory but dangerous in execution: stage a breakdown. A convincing one. It couldn’t look like a performance. It had to feel raw, unfiltered. It had to rattle the mansion.That morning, she allowed herself to unravel.She began by skipping breakfast again. When a maid tentatively knocked with a tray, Ayra didn’t answer. When another came to check on her a few hours later, she was greeted by the crash of something smashing against the door from the inside.

The message came just after dawn.The satellite phone buzzed once beneath her pillow—a soft, deliberate vibration that jolted Ayra awake. She fumbled for it in the shadows, her heart already thudding with anticipation. The screen lit up, revealing the message she had both hoped for and dreaded:“3 nights from now. Midnight. North-East cliff road. Bring no one.”—EAyra sat up slowly, the pale morning light seeping in through the edges of her curtain. Her breath fogged slightly in the cold air. That was it. The operation was greenlit. There would be no more delays, no more cautious planning. It was now a matter of execution.She stared at the message for a full minute before deleting it, letting the weight of those words settle on her chest. Eleanor had promised this would be her last chance. If Ayra failed, there would be no rescue. No second window. Just Lucian. Forever.A shiver ran down her spine, but she pushed it down. She had known this would come. She had prepared for it. Still,

When their boots faded, she cracked open the door and slipped out. Blood thrummed in her ears. She wasn't used to this level of exertion, and she could feel the deep ache where her shoulder had scraped the duct in the east garden. But she couldn't stop. She wouldn't.The halls of the mansion, so elegant by day, now twisted into something monstrous. Moonlight bled through tall windows, casting long shadows that warped with every step she took. Grand oil paintings of stern ancestors stared down at her as she hurried through the portrait hall, their eyes seeming to judge her trespass.She ducked behind a marble statue when the soft click of boots on tile sounded again.Boris.He walked slowly, not with the urgency of someone chasing a fugitive but with the calm precision of a hunter who already knew the trap was closing. In his hand, a flashlight. Its beam swept lazily across the room, pausing for a heartbeat longer on the statue she hid behind—but then moving on."You really should've j