Chapter 96: Red
 
 
 
 
 
The night was cloaked in darkness. Grace's room was dim and quiet and was barely illuminated by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through her open window. The chill of the night air drifted in, carrying with it the crisp scent of distant rain. The wind whispered through the curtains and fluttering them gently creating soft sounds in the room.
 
Grace slept soundly, oblivious to the world around her. Her breathing was deep and even. The soft rise and fall of her chest seemed to mirror the tranquility of the night. 
 
But then, a figure moved from the shadows outside the window.
 
A man, cloaked in dark clothing, swiftly scaled the side of the mansion. His coat billowed behind him in the wind as he ascended, blending seamlessly with the night. He reached the window with ease and his movements were fluid, making not a single sound as he landed silently

Chapter 97: Deep Purples
 
 
 
 
 
Valerian Vasiliev sat across from the man whom once saved his life. His silver-grey eyes were calm yet assessing as he studied the man before him. The atmosphere between them was familiar, built upon years of friendship, yet there was something different about him tonight.
 
"Ты прошел долгий путь, Сергеев." (You've come a long way, Sergeyev.) Valerian finally spoke, his voice steady yet curious. "Что привело тебя сюда, мой друг?" (What brings you here, my friend?)
 
Keegan leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he mulled over his answer. Then, with the smallest hint of amusement, he admitted.
 
"Несколько дней назад я был на улицах со своими людьми, наблюдая за группой, которая доставляла неприятности... в моем районе." (A few days ago, I was on the streets with my men, observing a certain group causing trouble... back in my territory.)
 
Valerian's bro

Chapter 95: Seven Days
 
 
 
 
 
Marco stopped in front of the heavy wooden door and glanced down at the woman in his arms.
 
Grace had gone quiet while her fingers were curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt. From the way her body tensed, he could tell she was bracing herself.
 
Her father's study had always been an unforgiving place. It smelled of expensive whiskey, cigar smoke, and the burden of all expectations he has thrown towards her. It was a place where Bartholomew Blackwood had spent years shaping his empire, where he had made decisions that ruined lives without so much as blinking.
 
And now, Grace was willingly walking into the lion's den, just after barely surviving the last time she stood before him.
 
Marco didn't like it. Not one damn bit.
 
"What do you want with him?" Marco asked feeling somewhat frustrated.
 
She exhaled softly, her grip on his shirt tightening for

Chapter 96: Red
 
 
 
 
 
The night was cloaked in darkness. Grace's room was dim and quiet and was barely illuminated by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through her open window. The chill of the night air drifted in, carrying with it the crisp scent of distant rain. The wind whispered through the curtains and fluttering them gently creating soft sounds in the room.
 
Grace slept soundly, oblivious to the world around her. Her breathing was deep and even. The soft rise and fall of her chest seemed to mirror the tranquility of the night. 
 
But then, a figure moved from the shadows outside the window.
 
A man, cloaked in dark clothing, swiftly scaled the side of the mansion. His coat billowed behind him in the wind as he ascended, blending seamlessly with the night. He reached the window with ease and his movements were fluid, making not a single sound as he landed silently on the floor. The man paused as his dark eyes instantly locked on Grace's peaceful form.
 
He took 