บททั้งหมดของ His Enemy, His Obsession: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

RONAN"Weeks ago, Ronan, I saw the files you were trying to scrub," my mother says, her voice as smooth as the silk robe she wears, betraying none of the chaos Zli’s presence should be causing. "You told the Syndicate that the 'Ledger' was a contractor named Mike. You thought you were protecting him by giving me a false alias instead of his real name. But really, Ronan, you didn't realize how significant that name is."I look at Zli. He lowers the gun slightly, his fingers trembling against the trigger guard. His voice is barely a whisper, a ghost of the tactical analyst I first met at Club Ombra. "It’s my middle name. I use it because it was my father’s name.""Exactly." My mother’s smirk widens, and she leans back into her mahogany chair, the matriarch in her element. "A man named Mike Lukeson trying to dismantle my empire? Then when I saw you that night at the Vesuvius Room, I knew for sure. You resemble him, Zlliot. You have his eyes—sharp, always looking for the error in the math

RONAN“Do you know where she was headed?” I demand, my hand tightening on the handle of the Ducati. The West Village air feels suddenly thin, charged with a static that makes the hair on my arms stand up.The neighbor shakes his head, looking small under my gaze. “She only said she would be gone for a while. Seemed to be in quite a hurry, throwing bags into a black Suburban. She looked… rattled.”“Teterboro,” Zli says, his voice flat and certain. I look at him and nod. We race back toward the idling bike, the engine a low, hungry growl against the cobblestones. “She’s trying to skip the country before Camelot or the Dragons can close the net. She has private hangars there.”“We’ll see about that, Ledger. Get on.”We take off even faster than before, the engine roaring as I squeeze the throttle and we bullet through the narrow streets. Zli holds tight to my waist, and I can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart against my back, mirroring the vibration of the machine. His coat whips thro

RONAN“Move!” I bark, my voice raw from the jet fumes and the adrenaline. I grab Zli’s hand and pull him toward the service door. It’s the only way out that doesn't put us directly into the path of the NY Port Authority units swarmng the main entrance.Zli is stumbling, his eyes glazed. I can tell he’s half out of it from the absolute psychological carnage of what just happened with Lydia. He just watched me drop his mentor, his surrogate mother, over the ledge. Even after twenty years of her lies, seeing her body hit the tarmac is a trauma he hasn't processed yet.My side is burning—that graze from the warehouse has definitely reopened, and I can feel the warm stickiness of blood soaking into my shirt. But there’s no time for a medic. The sirens are a deafening chorus now, and the searchlights from the police choppers are starting to sweep the hangar roofs like hungry eyes.“Zli, focus!” I pant, dragging him through a maintenance hallway. “We have to disappear before they lock down t

RONAN “RON” HWAN POV“How’s the gilded cage treating you, Captain?” Julian’s voice crackles through the encrypted line, dripping with his usual brand of dry sarcasm.I’m sitting shirtless on the edge of the king-sized bed, the cool morning air from the Tyrrhenian Sea blowing through the open balcony doors. I’ve got my phone pressed to my ear as I listen to Julian Knox’s latest update from the States. Two weeks have passed since the airport bloodbath and the revelation about Lydia “LIL” Moretti. We’ve spent them hiding out on the Amalfi Coast, tucked away in a villa where the sun actually feels warm enough to melt the ice in our veins.It’s one of the few places in Italy where the Crimson Dragons’ influence is purely financial, not martial. We’ve more than earned the silence.“Better than New York,” I answer, glancing back at Zlliot’s sleeping form tangled in the silk sheets. He looks younger when he’s asleep, the sharp lines of 'The Ledger' softened by exhaustion. “I haven’t had to wi

RONAN “RON” HWAN POV“Put your tongue back in your mouth, Lukeson. You’re catching flies,” Zli smirks, though the red wine shade of his lips tells me he’s enjoying the attention.I let out a low whistle, leaning against the doorframe of our Amalfi villa. He has just emerged from the master suite, and the transformation is staggering. He’s wearing a tailored, charcoal-grey suit—no tie, top buttons undone—that clings to his frame in all the right places. It highlights the lean muscle of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist, a silhouette that screams both elegance and a hidden, lethal capability. He looks less like a forensic accountant and more like the man who could buy and sell the Crimson Dragons without breaking a sweat.“Why should I?” I ask, pushing off the wall and stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for him. “We both know I’m going to be peelng that suit off you with my teeth in a few hours. I can’t help it if you look like a goddamn masterpiece, Led