All Chapters of HIS POISONOUS POSSESSION: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

[The Beacon in the Deep]The North Sea was not a body of water; it was a hungry, black lung, inhaling the fire of the falling station and exhaling a freezing mist that tasted of salt and ancient iron. From the height of the black helicopter, the impact of The Apex looked like the strike of a god’s hammer—a pillar of white steam and boiling ocean that momentarily eclipsed the stars.Ivy lunged toward the open door of the aircraft, her fingers clawing at the cold metal frame. The wind whipped her silk shift against her body, a thin, useless second skin against the biting gale."Dante!" she screamed into the void, her voice instantly swallowed by the roar of the rotors and the thundering groan of the sinking station.

[The Fourth Pulse]The impact was not a splash; it was a bone-shattering collision with liquid stone. The North Sea surged into the cabin of the sinking helicopter, a freezing, predatory tongue licking the heat from their skin. Within seconds, the world was no longer composed of air and fire, but of a crushing, pressurized darkness that tasted of iron and ancient salt.Ivy felt the water clawing at her throat, a cold hand forcing the air from her lungs. She was tangled in the harness, the silk of her dress acting as a tether, threatening to pull her into the lightless belly of the ocean. In the chaos of the sinking craft, the "Lethal Bond" didn't scream—it hummed, a low-frequency vibration that pulsed in her teeth.Suddenly, a hand—strong, scarred, and familiar—clamped onto her waist. Dante. Even in the lightless void,

[The House of Shadows]The Nadir did not fall with a bang. It fell with a sickening, liquid groan.The violet light emanating from the obsidian pillar wasn't just illumination; it was a physical weight, a gravitational distortion that pulled the very air from Ivy’s lungs. Around her, the clinical perfection of the Owners' sanctuary was dissolving. Glass partitions shattered into diamonds of frosted light, and the shimmering neural tissue in the perimeter tanks began to blacken, dying in rhythmic, agonizing, synchronized bursts.Dante’s arms were a cage of iron and heat around her, his chest heaving against her back. He was the only solid thing in a world that had turned to shadow and static."Do

[The Queen of the Ruins]The Mediterranean dawn was not like the gray, suffocating mists of the North Sea. Here, the light was a violent gold, cutting across the turquoise water like a scimitar. But for Ivy Thorne, the warmth was a lie. She stood on the teak deck of the Aethelgard, a black-hulled leviathan of a yacht that served as the mobile command center for what remained of the Moretti-St. Claire's assets.She was no longer wearing silk or bandages. She was dressed in a suit of structured charcoal wool, sharp enough to bleed on, her hair pulled back into a knot so tight it mirrored the new, crystalline rigidity of her mind.Inside her, the "Fourth Pulse" had settled.

[The Firstborn's Hunger]The obsidian table in the Sicilian villa vibrated, not from the proximity of the yacht’s engines, but from a frequency that seemed to originate from the tectonic plates themselves. The sonar feed from the North Sea was a chaotic mess of shifting blues and jagged white peaks, showing the wreckage of the Nadir being pushed aside like straw by something massive, something bioluminescent, and something undeniably alive.Ivy stood at the head of the table, her heterochromatic eyes—one obsidian, one hazel—fixed on the screen. The "Fourth Pulse" inside her, usually a cold and orderly library of data, was suddenly screaming. It wasn't a warning; it was a recognition. A biological echo of a precursor she had been told was a myth."The F