Semua Bab Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife: Bab 121 - Bab 130

“Why are you telling me this?”Vincent studied me for some long seconds before finally answering, “Because you're my daughter.”The words didn’t echo because we were in such ordinary infirmary for a huge mansion owned by a syndicate. They didn’t ring out with cinematic weight or hang in the air like some dramatic thunderclap because Vincent was just an old man laying on bed, not a god. He just said it, quiet and certain, like something already written into the walls.Still, it landed with a jolt in my chest.I stared at him, unsure what to feel about this. “You didn’t raise me. You didn’t even meet me until last month. So why does that matter now?”Vincent’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, more like something amused and wistful. “You know, most people wouldn’t say that out loud.”“You didn’t raise most people.”He chuckled, a dry rasp of a sound. “True.”I shifted in my seat, trying not to cross my arms and app

“Misha,” I murmured. “He’s not just angry. He’s… practiced.”Vincent didn’t comment. Just watched me.“He was a soldier, you know,” I continued. “Rose through ranks fast. Decorated beyond belief. A hero. Warlord. That’s what made the papers.”“So I’ve heard,” Vincent said mildly.“They said he ended the war three years ago. Or helped end it, depending who you asked. He negotiated the surrender of half a province while still in uniform. Then disappeared off the radar. Just like that. Vanished.”Vincent said nothing.“Now he’s here,” I went on. “Near you. Sitting across from your men at the dinner table. Helping with operations. Watching. Always watching.”“You think he’s here for revenge?”I glanced at him. “Isn’t he?”Vincent shrugged slightly. “Probably.”“And you’re just letting it happen?”He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve had people gunning for

Renaldi led us out of the greenhouse, the damp warmth giving way to the cooler air of the corridor. Vincent walked beside me, not speaking, but his glance every few steps told me he was filing this moment away, the way he did with everything.My pulse felt loud in my ears, each step heavier than the last. What could my mother possibly want?We turned into one of the many living rooms. Camille Redmond was there, standing near one of the tall windows, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes found mine instantly, and they shimmered. She took a step forward.“Lorraine,” she moved like she meant to pull me into her arms.I stopped on my track. The movement was small, barely more than a hesitation, but it was enough. She faltered mid-step, her arms hovering before she let them drop.Vincent’s voice cut through it. “What purpose did you come for, Mrs. Redmond?”She turned to him, startled, like she hadn’t realized he was here until he spoke. Her gaze landed on his face, held there f

Lorraine's POVI planted myself between Misha and the door, my pulse a war drum in my ears. “Don’t,” I said again, this time low, almost pleading. “You’ll get yourself killed.”His hand tightened on the gun. “Or I’ll keep them from killing you.”That should’ve made me feel safer, but it didn’t. Not when I remembered what Vincent had said this morning. On how Misha had been born with the urge to kill, and how the only thing holding him back was his late father’s one rule—kill only criminals. It wasn’t a moral compass. It was a leash. And Vincent’s entire empire was made of criminals. Misha had been holding himself back for weeks, probably gritting his teeth through it all.But this was different. We were being attacked. Whatever leash Misha had been holding onto… it had to be fraying.“Misha, stay here,” I pressed, my voice sharp enough to hide the edge of fear. “With me. With my mother and brother.”

The hall burned with the stink of gunpowder and plaster dust, every breath thick as grit in my lungs. Wade was coming, steady as a hunting dog, each footstep deliberate on the broken glass.I leaned against the wall, rifle hot in my hands, every nerve alive. My heart wasn’t racing. No, it was steady, controlled. This was my element. I’d been living in war since I was a boy. Murder was no longer a thrill to me. It became a language. And I spoke it better than anyone.The war ended three years ago, but me? I never did.I pivoted around the doorframe, letting muscle memory take the shot before my eyes even confirmed him. The flash lit his cheek, cut the air just shy of his skull. He fired back instantly, stone-faced, his bullet slamming into the wood inches from mine.He advanced while I pulled back, both of us playing angles, both of us veterans who knew better than to waste time with spray-and-pray.“Come on, Ashford!” Wade barke