Alouette Drive Novels & Stories

in unison, then she continues, "Welcome to Paris." "Thank you." Aurelia said and smiled. Delphine lead them to a sleek Mercedes-Benz S680 Maybach waited at the curb, its glossy black exterior catching the evening lights of Charles de Gaulle. The chauffeur, in a perfectly tailored suit, stepped forward with a small bow, collecting their luggage before opening the door with a white-gloved hand.

waiting at the entrance when we stepped outside. The Auremont morning was crisp and golden… proper September autumn, the kind that made everything look considered. Leaves are beginning to turn on the trees lining the estate road. The air is sharp and clean. Isabella walked beside me, her own bag held properly, her own outfit precise. We had both understood without discussing it… today required a certain kind of presence. The driver opened the door. We got in. Neither of us spoke immediately as the car pulled out of Halcyon Mirrors and into the wider streets of Auremont.

“I’ll drive this one.” “Yes, sir,” the driver answered at once and stepped back. Aurelian slid behind the wheel. The moment both doors closed, he spoke to the car in that low, commanding voice. “Auto-drive. My apartment. Now.” The AI responded instantly, smooth and neutral. “Command confirmed. Auto-drive engaged. Estimated arrival: twenty-three minutes.” The car pulled away silently from the hall, leaving the lights, the cameras, the ceremony, and everyone behind us. The privacy screen rose with a soft hum, sealing us in.

Nevio warned and the latter nodded while we both walked outside, starting the closet and the fastest car, The engine roared to life, its tires screeching as I raced out of the estate to Sorrentino's. Neither Nevio nor I said anything as I drove on like a maniac. There were too many pieces of whatever it was piecing themselves together. Falcone Aurora Ayla "You do not think Aurora could be..." Nevio said, finally breaking the silence. "I don't want to think right now Nevio," My hands were tightening with something akin to fear as I drove on, blaring the horn at Sorrentino's gate.

Prince Nicholas' castle, the Château de Rochefort, nestled in the serene commune of Rochefort-en-Yvelines, lay in the heart of the Île-de-France region, a mere 47 kilometers southwest of Paris. Today, eight Sherpa Lights – a fleet of 4x4 tactical and light armored vehicles crafted by the renowned French company, Renault Trucks Defense – rumbled out of the castle gates in urgent haste. Their engines roared, cutting through the tranquility of the countryside. If they maintained a speed of 60 kilometers per hour, Paris would be within their reach in under an hour.

Brody had become still as he looked at her, the strange light of his eyes making them seem like piercing lasers. “The very odd one these days…” he replied and smiled. “I find I like them tiny, with hair like tangled red silk and eyes that hold an entire world filled with mystery and ghost…” “Brody…” “And here's the chateau. Welcome into my humble home…” They had just approached enormous gates set in a high stone wall through which the car passed smoothly and with a stately flourish that proclaimed it was home. A long, winding drive snaked through bowling-green-smooth lawns dotted with tall, gracious trees and carefully positioned flowerbeds, and beyond the chateau itself, which was a vision