Semua Bab The Devil's Game: Bab 141 - Bab 147

He lowered himself slowly into the chair across from her, resting his elbows on his knees. “I searched for her for years. Even after I was told she was dead, I refused to believe it. I held on to that hope like it was the last thing tethering me to any sense of humanity. Because... it was, in a way.”Ayra couldn’t stop herself from whispering, “And then you saw me.”Lucian looked at her. The firelight flickered over his face, deepening the lines of fatigue and guilt there. “I didn’t just see you. I was shown you.”Her brows furrowed.“Ferdinand,” he said bitterly. “And your sister, Lisbeth. They planted photographs. Documents. Testimonies. They made it look real. They told me you were Isa. That you’d survived, been hidden away, changed your name. Everything fit. You looked so much like her—same eyes, same mouth. It was… maddening. And I was desperate to believe it. I wanted it to be true.”Ayra’s breath caught. Her fingers trembled in her lap. This explained so much of what had happene

The villa had never gleamed brighter, it seemed. Light poured from golden chandeliers like a molten sun, their flame mirrored in the crystal goblets and polished floors. The masked guests moved like shadow. The low swell of string instruments wove around murmured laughter and fleeting glances.Ayra descended the main staircase with Lucian beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers. Their entrance was calculated—timed for effect. Conversation dimmed as heads turned. A hundred eyes veiled behind ornate masks watched the pair glide across the floor, curiosity and calculation pulsing beneath every breath.Lucian’s mask was forged from dark silver—elegant, cold, merciless. It clung to the contours of his face like it had always belonged there. Ayra wore midnight black lace, delicate as cobwebs, with crimson crystals edging the feathers that crowned her temple. Her dress was deep red velvet, cinched at the waist with a golden cord. She was a painting come to life—beautiful, dangerous,

The hallway was narrow, stifling with the scent of damp stone and decades of untouched air. Lucian moved ahead, his hand curled around Ayra’s wrist, guiding her through the twisting underground corridor like he had walked it a thousand times. But even he couldn’t hide the tautness in his shoulders—the precision in his every step. Every turn they took felt like a countdown, a breath closer to whatever threat lingered behind them.Ayra’s heart pounded with a rhythm she hadn’t felt since her first escape. This was different. Now, she wasn’t just a girl trying to survive—she was part of something sharper, something darker. Lucian had killed someone upstairs, and now, someone wanted him dead.“What is this place?” she whispered, heels muffled against the stone.“Maintenance tunnels according to the blueprints. Old ones. Built during the Syndicate War. The Cyrus estate kept them for emergencies.” Lucian’s voice was low but calm, which somehow made the situation worse.A door creaked behind