Semua Bab The Debt Collectors Bride: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Damien’s pov:That signal should have been a ghost.I’d shut down that channel years ago, tore out the wiring, scrubbed the code, and buried the access points so deep that nothing should have been left but static. It was one of those moves you made when you realized that in this world, people’s loyalty had an expiration date.And yet, there it was.A tiny, rhythmic pulse on my dark screen, cutting through the silence of my office.I stared at it. My men were downstairs, pretending they weren't listening to every creak in the floorboards. The mansion felt heavy with the kind of quiet that only comes when everyone is waiting for a bomb to go off. Sera was upstairs, hopefully sleeping, and just knowing she was under this roof was the only thing keeping me grounded.I clicked the channel open.It wasn't static. There was the sound of someone breathing slow, steady, and patient. The sound of a man who knew exactly how much a secret was worth.“You took your time,” the voice said.Marrow.H

Damien’s pov:The call woke me just before dawn. The mansion was still pitch black, and the sky outside was that bruised purple color right before the sun comes up. I could hear the tension in Luca’s voice over the phone.“We found him,” Luca said. “One body. Left by the old rail junction.”I was out of bed and dressed in minutes.By the time I got there, my men had already blocked off the area. There were no sirens, no flashing lights, and no crowd. Just a few of my guys standing around with hard faces, looking at the ground as if it might jump up and bite them. The body was exactly where Luca said it would be. It hadn't been dumped out of a moving car; it was placed with precision, it had been placed there with a purpose.Black Tide always staged their dead like they were putting on a play.I knelt down beside the man and felt something cold settle in my stomach. It wasn't shock. It was recognition.The man had been cut open from his collarbone down to his chest. The wound was incre

Sera’s pov: The training room had been a furnace of focused energy, but the silence of the mansion’s upper corridors felt even more intense. My lungs still burned slightly from the exertion, the sharp, metallic scent of gun oil and floor wax clinging to my skin. Every time I blinked, I still saw the targets, still felt the kick of the weapon vibrating through my marrow. But as we reached the heavy oak door of my bedroom, the adrenaline didn't fade. It transformed. It shifted from a cold, survivalist hum into a hot, pulsing throb that settled deep in my belly.Damien stood before me, his silhouette cutting a rough shadow against the dim hallway lights. He didn't just walk me to my door; he loomed over it, his presence heavy and inescapable. His sleeves were still pushed back, revealing the corded muscle of his forearms, sweat making the dark hair there glisten. He looked like a man who had just come back from a war. I reached for the door handle, but my hand was shaking. I hated that

Sera’s pov:I’m learning the shape of a lie.It doesn’t feel like I thought it would. There’s no sudden weight of guilt or a racing heart. Instead, it arrives quietly, like a habit you don’t realize you’ve started. It feels like survival.It started with a cheap, thin notebook.I didn't pick the fancy leather ones Damien’s men use. Those are too easy to notice. Mine has a plain gray cover that looks like nothing. I kept it tucked behind two old, dusty books on my shelf that I know for a fact no one ever touches.I told myself it’s just for my thoughts. A way to stay sane in a house that breathes secrets.But the first thing I wrote in it was a name.And I haven't told Damien.The weirdest part isn't that I'm keeping secrets, it’s that I don't feel bad about it. I keep waiting for the urge to confess, to go to him and ask for permission to know things. But that feeling never comes. Instead, I feel a strange sort of calm.Loving him doesn't mean I have to hand over my brain. I learned t

POV: Third PersonMarrow had learned a long time ago that just staying alive wasn't the same thing as actually living.He lived in an underground room that was cold, dark, and purposely hidden away. Black Tide used places like this for people they wanted to keep close but didn't want anyone to see. He was useful to them, but he was also someone they could throw away at any moment. The air down there smelled like damp dirt and old metal. It was the kind of place where you could scream as loud as you wanted and nobody would ever hear you.He sat at a small table with his back against the wall. His fingers tapped a slow, steady beat on the wood. It was an old habit from years of waiting for orders that usually came too late or for trouble that came too fast.Across from him, a cheap burner phone buzzed once and then went quiet.Marrow didn't pick it up right away. He knew that in this world, making someone wait was a way of showing you had power.When he finally answered, he didn't say h