Semua Bab The CEO’s Vengeful Bride: Bab 191 - Bab 200

The world called her a martyr. Statues rose in her honor, her name etched into digital hymns, viral elegies, and whispered prayers. Elena Montrose – the Queen who burned, the rebel who died for peace. But she hadn’t died. She had become “Revenant”. Somewhere deep beneath the icy bones of a gutted data vault in Mongolia’s forgotten desert, a pulse of quantum interference sent a thousand surveillance satellites spinning. Files corrupted. Drones lost their vision. Markets blinked. It was the fifth hit in as many days. And no one saw her coming. Clad in black exo-thread that shimmered like smoke, Elena crouched above the smoldering server farm, pulse gun steady in her gloved hands. The winds shrieked outside. Beneath her, Luca’s Eidolon relay node bled sparks into the frozen earth – another vein in his neural empire severed. Victor’s voice crackled in her ear. “Relay Delta is collapsing. Seismic reading at twelve percent. You’ve got sixty seconds”. “Plenty,” Elena muttered, snappi

The wind howled like a beast over the Baltic rooftops. Elena—no, ’Revenant’ - moved like a shadow through it, cloaked in a stealth suit that warped with the light. Her breath ghosted in the sub-zero air as she crouched on the lip of a shattered window, eyes locked on the bunker beneath the frozen concrete courtyard below. Inside, one of Luca Moretti’s inner circles – Commander Rhys Vale – was holding a black-site briefing on the Eidolon system’s next activation phase. Rhys was brutal, brilliant, and paranoid. He’d killed his brother for whispering the wrong name in his sleep. Tonight, he was going to talk. Elena adjusted the pressure gauge on her shock-dart launcher and whispered into her comm. “Echo 7, confirm silence perimeter.” Static. Then Witchbyte’s digitized voice: “Perimeter cloaked. Sixty-second window. And Elena?” She hesitated. “Yeah?” “…Don’t die again.” A faint smile tugged at Elena’s lips. She jumped. -------------------------------------------------------------

The rain didn’t stop for hours. It pounded the charred earth like it was trying to wash away sins too old to name. Damien moved through the mud without hesitation, soaked to the bone, rifle slung across his back, every step laced with desperation. The ambush had gone sideways – someone tipped off Luca’s men. The last transmission from the underground cell had cut off mid-scream. But none of that mattered. Only one name did. “Elena,” he muttered again, voice raw, cracking through the headset static. No response. Just the wind howling like ghosts. His boots crunched over scorched roots and twisted metal. The ruins of the safe-house loomed ahead – a collapsed shell of concrete and smoke, its security grid still sparking in flickers of red. Bodies lay scattered along the perimeter, friend and foe alike. Damien didn’t look at them. Not yet. Not until he heard it. A cough. Then a groan. He pivoted sharply, drawing his weapon – only to freeze as a figure dragged herself from bene

The Guardians didn’t attack right away.They watched.Seven figures – tall, humanoid silhouettes crafted from obsidian alloy and flickering neural light - circled the ruins like sentinels born from the bones of ancient gods. Their movements were silent but synchronized as if waiting for a signal only they could hear.Elena stood still, eyes locked on the closest one. Its head tilted slightly, not unlike a curious animal deciding whether to kill or listen.Damien stepped in front of her.“No sudden moves,” he whispered.“They recognize my DNA,” Elena murmured. “They’re part of the Codex defense system. My mother must’ve designed them to test anyone who came.”Damien’s grip tightened on his pulse rifle. “Test how?”One of the Guardians raised its arm.A blade of shimmering plasma hissed to life, but instead of striking, it touched the ground – drawing a circle in molten arcs. A challenge.“Damien,” she said, breath shallow. “Lower your weapon.”He hesitated – but obeyed.The Guardian ste

The summit roared with the wind of ghosts.Once, this place had been a beacon of vision—Montrose Tower, where world-changing algorithms were born, where power whispered in code and legacy clung like gold dust in the air. Now, it was nothing but steel bones and ashes.And in its heart stood the last two heirs of the Montrose line.Elena. Luca.Opposites carved from the same hellfire.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The wind cut across the tower like a blade. Shards of fractured glass clung to skeletal windows, trembling with the storm. Elena stepped forward, boots crunching across the scorched marble floor where her childhood memories had once played like soft piano notes.Luca stood a few paces away, his silhouette framed by a broken arch where their mother once held lectures on neural evolution and legacy. His black suit was immaculate. Not a wrinkle, not a speck of ash. As if he refused to acknowledge the