The countdown had already begun.The red digits blinked on the screen, cold, merciless, absolute.60, 59, 58Aurora Hale didn’t move. Around her, the war room held its breath. Weapons were raised. Men froze, fingers hovering over triggers that could rewrite the night in blood.Sebastian Virelli watched her, calm, patient, predatory.“A life,” he said softly, almost amused,“in exchange for an empire.”57, 56, 55The man in the chair struggled weakly. Blood stained his collar. His lips moved, silent, desperate, broken. A relic from her father’s past. A truth buried in flesh. Or a lie wrapped in bait.54, 53, 52One of the billionaires snapped, “We don’t have time for this! End it”“Silence.” Aurora’s voice cut through the room. Clean. Final.A thought sharpened in her mind: He who tries to save every piece, loses the board.51, 50, 49Sebastian smiled faintly. “Yes,” he murmured. “That’s the look.”48, 47, 46Aurora lifted her head. Their eyes met. Something shifted. Not hesitation. No
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