บททั้งหมดของ Devil's Bidding: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

“He’s throwing everything away!”Don Antonio’s voice thundered through the room as the glass flew from his hand, smashing into the mirror with a sharp crack. It shattered on impact, fragments scattering across the polished floor.He didn’t move.He stood there, chest rising and falling heavily, staring at the broken reflection of himself." Lucas…”“His mind seems made up, Don, and he's started the first phase." one of the men said cautiously from a distance. “Not just that, he’s already putting things in place for the girl. Enough to last her the rest of her life.”Antonio’s jaw clenched.“And he’s not just planning to weaken the Gentleman Society,” the man continued, more carefully now. “it's clear he intends to destroy it. Completely.”Silence settled.Heavy. “It’s clear he’s ready to ruin himself to do it.”A bitter, disbelieving chuckle left Antonio.He began to pace, slow at first, then sharper, agitation bleeding into every step.“What exactly has she done to him?” he demanded

Arabella woke with a start, her heart racing in the dim room.“Lucas?” she rasped, voice still heavy with sleep.“Hello, miss,” the maid whispered from beside the bed, her tone soft but cautious.“Where’s Lucas?” Arabella asked, already pushing the covers aside.“He’s about to leave. He said he won’t be back for dinner—”The maid’s words barely registered. Arabella was already off the bed and bolting toward the door, her bare feet silent on the carpet before meeting the cool marble of the hallway.Lucas stood near the entrance with two other men, his posture straight and commanding as he barked out orders. Several black cars idled outside in the downpour, their headlights slicing through the rain.“A small team, as you asked,” one man reported. “Backup vehicle is ready too. They’ll keep their distance.”Lucas nodded sharply, checking his gun with practiced efficiency before tucking it under his belt.“Lucas?” Arabella’s voice carried down the stairs, softer than she intended.He spun

Arabella My head throbbed. Forcing my eyes open felt like pushing through a thick, gray fog that refused to lift.The air carried a sterile scent instead of Lucas’s familiar warmth and masculine smell. No cedarwood. No safety.No. I forcing my eyes open confusion twisting into panic. This room was all wrong. I tried to reach up to rub my eyes, but a sharp, metallic **jolt** stopped me mid-motion.*Clink.*What was going on. The sound was small, but it echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room. I looked down, my breath catching in my throat. A heavy steel handcuff was locked around my right wrist, the cold metal biting into my skin. The other end was bolted directly to the rusted frame of the bed.Panic, cold and sharp, flooded my chest.“Lucas?” I rasped. My voice was a dry croak, my throat feeling as though it had been scrubbed with sand.I sat up with a violent jolt, the chain rattling against the metal rail. My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Lucas? Lucas

​I reached out with a trembling hand. Two identical, smiling faces sat between a happy couple. A family. A life. All gone. Lucas was the only survivor.​“Lucas has always been obsessed with you,” Antonio continued. “I don’t expect you to believe me, so I brought proof. Technology is a wonderful thing.”​He to the large screen on the wall. A grainy, shaky video began to play. It was chaotic, the camera swung wildly, held by the small, unsteady hands of a child. The footage jolted, blurred, and dipped, capturing the floor and the ceiling in a dizzying loop.​“He used to love cameras as a little boy,” Antonio sighed, almost wistfully. “He was obsessed with capturing everything. Thankfully, I was able to retrieve this from his old kid-camera. It was what kept him focused all these years.”​The video was a mess of motion blur. A little girl in a party hat was pulling a boy, the one holding the lens down a long, sterile white corridor.​“Come on, Lucas! You need to see the girl that looks

Arabella The walk on the main road felt like ice against my bare, bloodied feet. I had made it. I was shaking so violently that my teeth rattled, the oversized lab coat soaked through and heavy as lead. I didn't know where to go. I had walked until my legs gave up. The hospital might notice I was gone by now. Far off in the distance, the headlights of a vehicle cut through the curtain of rain.My heart stopped and I scrambled looking for a place to hide. The vehicle—a nondescript black van—screeched to a halt just yards away. The sliding door hissed open.I took a step back. Three men stepped out. They weren’t wearing uniforms. They moved with a terrifying, practiced efficiency, their faces obscured by the shadows of their hoods.“Miss Montague,” one of them said, his voice flat and robotic. “Time to go back.”“No!” I screamed, stepping back, but my twisted ankle buckled. I hit the wet pavement, scrambling away on my hands and knees. “Get away from me!”They lunged. One grabbe