Novel & Cerita Man In The Iron Mask Novel

"That wasn't part of the deal either." "Of course not. He's far too valuable to damage." His smile is cold. "Come along then." The dungeons beneath Ravenscrest Manor are exactly as I remember from childhood nightmares. Damp stone walls, iron bars, and the smell of fear and despair. They place Jason in a cell near the end of the corridor, laying him on a thin mattress with surprising gentleness. As the guards step back, Jason's eyes flutter open. For a moment, he looks confused, disoriented. Then his gaze finds mine through the bars, and I see the exact moment when full awareness returns.

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

However, he still had Aunt Rockefeller as his trump card. It was stupid to surrender now, just because of what the masked man had said. While running, he asked, “How do you know that I have the Holy Book? If you tell me your identity, I will consider it!” The masked man said, “Look, I’m wearing a mask just because I don’t want to tell you who I am! Don’t ask these sort of questions, if you really know who I am, then you really won’t be able to live.”

A grand double staircase extended to the upper floor. No one was able to recognize one another, since they were all wearing masks and it was all panned by Ivan himself. Adam didn’t let go of Mariah even for a second, he wanted to make sure she was safe even if it cost him his own life. After a few minutes, a man appeared and stood right between the double staircase so everyone could see him. He was wearing a mask as well but along with the mask, he was also wearing a crown. He had a glass in one hand and a fork in other. Adam noticed him and knew exactly who he was. The figure above him was staring directly towards his direction but something was odd. He wasn’t looking at Adam, his eyes were

Eyes blank, mouths moving silently, like puppets pulled by unseen strings. I tried to call out. "Xavier! Mother! Father!" No sound passed my lips. I reached forward, fingers trembling. My hand passed through the air—no warmth, no resistance, as though they were already ghosts. A figure emerged from the smoke. Tall. Masked. Robed in deep crimson. In its hands—a crown. But not gold. Iron. Dripping red. The scent of rust and blood filled the room. It approached, steps soundless across the ash.

“Rosa…" Footsteps neared. Boots. Heavy. Purposeful. A figure entered the room, shadowed and silent, face obscured by a tactical mask. He crouched low, examined Lorenzo’s state like a butcher studying livestock. “Still breathing,” the man murmured in accented English. “You Morelli bastards are hard to kill.” Lorenzo spat blood and smiled faintly. “You’ll wish you tried harder.” The masked man chuckled. “You’re bait now. Enjoy the wait.” And then he was gone.

The masked man signalled his man for something. "I am really curious about one thing though. I hope you clarify my dought" The masked man said. "You claim to love Miss Anna but you had this child with Renee " "That none of your business, just tell me what you want, let settle the matter" The masked man scoffed. "You have become a Manwhore " "Who are you?" "You will know soon" One of the men came back with some papers. The masked man took those papers in his hand throw them in the cage.

Only a wealthy man could afford such a luxury room in the most expensive hotel in the city. "I don't remember his face, Manuela," Isabella picked up her dress. She just discovered that she did not see his face. The mask never left his face. He was all of her last night with a mask…did he play her? "Try to…those green eyes will have a beautiful face, trust me," Manuela took out her phone from the bag. She normally takes pictures of events she goes to and the people around her. Maybe his friend might recall his face.

he breathed. Figures emerged from the shadows. Dark suits, masked faces, rifles glinting in the sparse light. Lazarus’s men. Their formation was sharp, disciplined, boxing the team in from multiple directions. “Well,” a voice purred from above. A man stepped onto a container, tall, slender, his silhouette sharp against the dim glow of dock lamps. His mask was porcelain-white, painted with a mocking smile. “You really do live up to your reputation. Dogs of Novelle, marching straight into my teeth.”

“Your Grace, you could put me down. The woman and the man ... ” “Tell me that fucking rule, and I would not show any mercy to you.” I knew it. I remained silent. Soon, my annoyance disappeared with amazement. Even though I only saw half of his face, I fell on his spell. Why did he put on a mask? The novel depicted this man who had heavenly beauty, enough to launch and halt wars. “Have you become my fan?” My teeth gritted. He was right. I am a fan of his looks, but not his cockiness.