Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 38

MarloI stood in front of the mirror in Jarrah’s dressing room, staring at the woman looking back at me. Her hair was swept up, revealing the delicate line of her neck. High diamond heels added three inches to her height, and her shoulders were square, set in a posture that felt entirely foreign.The girl in the faded oversize sweater the frightened orphan who cowered in corner desks and lived off student loans was gone. In her place stood the sole legal owner of the land beneath the city's greatest institution.Heavy, slow footsteps sounded on the polished hardwood behind me.Jarrah stopped right behind my shoulder. He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair combed back, looking every bit the lethal prince of Melbourne’s underbelly. His amber eyes met mine in the mirror's glass, dark and unreadable.Without a word, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy velvet box. He flipped it open, revealing a thick collar necklace made of platinum and cut emeralds."

MarloMy hands were still shaking so hard I could barely feel my fingers. Up in the hotel elevator, the seconds had stretched like thin wire before Jarrah moved. He hadn't flinched when those men raised their weapons. He had shoved me behind his massive frame, caught the barrel of the first submachine gun with his bare, scarred hand, and shattered the man's wrist with a sickening crunch before the doors could even close.We had barely escaped out the service stairs, dodging Siobhan's trap and racing back through the storm to the absolute safety of the Port Phillip Bay estate.Now, the heavy steel security shutters were locked tight. The house was dead silent, save for the low hum of the servers running in the corner of the room.Jarrah stood beside the mahogany desk. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo jacket anymore; he had stripped it off, leaving him in a dark, sweat-dampened dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The harsh white light of the desk lamp caught the jagged sil

MarloDust from the shattered study doorway upstairs still settled over the long wooden table in slow, grey motes. Above us, the heavy steel reinforced walls vibrated every time the coastal storm slammed another massive wave against the seawall, but down here, the red emergency lanterns held back the dark.On the table laid the blueprints of the Monash University Sports Complex the crown jewel of the land trust my grandfather had locked away twenty years ago.Jarrah stood over the plans, his massive hands planted flat on the map. He had changed into a dark tactical shirt that stretched tight over his broad back, his sleeves rolled up to expose the violent silver burn marks winding down his arms."The corporate board thinks they’re holding the emergency land seizure vote next Friday," Jarrah said, his deep voice carrying a cold, quiet authority that filled the room. "They're using the annual university hockey championship match as their cover. Every major donor, syndicate proxy, and bo

MarloThe estate was deadly quiet, but it didn't feel peaceful. It felt like the heavy, suffocating air right before a thunderstorm hits the coast.Rain drummed a relentless, rhythmic beat against the reinforced glass of the private study. Outside, the dark waters of Port Phillip Bay churned in the storm, but inside, the only light came from the low embers burning in the stone fireplace. The faint smell of woodsmoke, old whiskey, and wet leather filled the room.Tomorrow was the university hockey championship. Tomorrow, we walk onto the ice, right into Siobhan’s trap, holding our lives and the land trust in our hands. Tomorrow, blood would spill.I stood near the edge of the large wooden desk, my bare feet sinking into the soft rug. My coat was gone, leaving me in an oversized dark sweater that kept sliding off one shoulder. My hands were still cold, the memory of the syndicate broker’s thin, cruel smile in the parking garage echoing through my mind.Jarrah stood near the fire. He had