《THE BILLIONAIRE HIDDEN BRIDE: Reborn for Revenge 》全部章節：第 151 章 - 第 160 章

Fugitives at the Edge of the WorldReykjavík welcomed them with gusts of Arctic wind that bit right to the bone. For Mavric Thorne, this biting cold at least brought a welcome numbness to the wounds on his body injuries that were still far from fully healed after the fierce battle at the docks in Jakarta. Beside him, Liora walked with a lighter, more agile stride, yet her eyes remained sharply alert, scanning every single person who passed them in the arrivals terminal of Keflavík International Airport.They no longer went by the surname Thorne. In their newly issued passports, they were Mr. and Mrs. Miller, a couple of architects from Canada taking an extended sabbatical from work. There was no luxury car waiting to pick them up. Instead, Mavric rented an old but sturdy Volvo SUV, and they drove for two long hours until they reached a remote wooden cabin situated on the edge of Hvammsfjörður fjord.The cabin stood entirely alone on the shore of a frozen lake, surrounded by snow‑ca

Pursuit in the Northern StormThe sky above Reykjavik Harbour looked like a massive bruise of deep purple streaked with grey a clear sign that another heavy snowstorm was fast approaching. Mavric Thorne stood on the deck of a privately chartered high‑speed patrol boat, his eyes fixed intently on the churning expanse of the northern sea. Frigid winds cut right through his tactical jacket, yet the burning rage in his chest ran far hotter than the biting Arctic cold.“How could a high‑security prisoner simply vanish like this in less than an hour?” Mavric’s voice was low, but carried a clear and deadly threat.Gabriel, standing behind him while holding a military‑grade tablet, let out a heavy sigh. “The financial chaos Liora triggered earlier caused a ten‑minute glitch in the prison’s communication systems.”That was the gap they exploited. Eleanor didn’t act alone, Mavric. She was assisted by a private paramilitary unit linked to remaining members of the Obsidian Circle operating ac

Final Moments in LondonThe storm winds over the North Sea howled with enough force to tear through steel, yet the sound barely registered to Mavric Thorne. Every sense he possessed was fixed on a single point: the slick surface of the tactical submarine as it slowly began to descend into the embrace of the dark, deadly waters. Before him stood Marcus, his stance wide and firm, the silver case containing the Sovereign Ledger secured tightly to his wrist.“You won’t win here, Young Master!” Marcus shouted above the roar of the waves. “This vessel dives in thirty seconds. If you don’t let go, you’ll be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean with me!”Mavric offered no reply. He simply wiped the blood from his split lip and lunged forward. The physical struggle was brutal and unforgiving every blow landed felt like being struck by a hammer, while the slippery surface of the submarine turned every step into a gamble with death.Three hundred miles away, in the temporary command centre

Shadows Behind the VeilLondon was beginning to settle down after the previous night’s storm, yet the remnants of destruction on the 50th floor of Thorne Tower stood as silent witnesses to just how thin the line between life and death truly was. Mavric Thorne sat on the leather sofa in his private residence a luxurious penthouse offering a sparkling view of the River Thames. In his hand, he idly twirled the old photograph left behind by Lucas Thorne: a picture of Liora during her university years, smiling broadly in front of a research laboratory in Zurich.Liora’s face looked strikingly different in the photograph. Not because of her features, but because of the bright gleam in her eyes the sparkle of someone harbouring a great secret, someone untouched and unburdened by the heavy weight of the Thorne name. However, what made Mavric’s jaw tighten wasn’t just that smile, but the man standing beside her the man whose face had been deliberately crossed out with red ink by Lucas.“Wh

Sacred Vows Under the Barrel of a GunThat morning, London woke shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog, as if the city itself was trying to conceal the massive conspiracy unfolding at its very heart. Westminster Abbey stood imposing yet sombre, ringed with steel barricades and hundreds of heavily armed police officers. Behind its majestic façade, a war was being prepared.Inside the bridal suite at Thorne Mansion, Liora stood perfectly still as three of London’s finest seamstresses adjusted her white silk wedding gown. The dress was exquisite a masterpiece featuring intricate, hand-crafted lace yet beneath the silk fabric covering her back, a thin heart-rate sensor was attached directly to her skin.“Your heart rate is at 85 beats per minute, Liora. It’s far too high,” Mavric’s voice called out from the doorway.He walked in wearing a sharply tailored black tuxedo. His usually composed expression was now tense and rigid. He signalled for the seamstresses to leave the room. Once the