It had been a grueling day. Conor and Kerrigan had spent the morning coordinating with their respective teams, setting up makeshift offices in the expansive Lokir estate, and establishing routines that would allow them to manage both Dragon Corporation and Vokrizin from this remote stronghold. They knew they had to maintain their companies' momentum while dealing with the aftermath of recent events, and every moment felt crucial.The afternoon was equally busy with back-to-back calls and briefings, recapping the current state of affairs and strategizing the next steps. For the first time in days, they were catching their breath, although the weight of responsibility hung heavy in the air.As late afternoon settled over the estate, the sun dipped low, casting the grounds in a warm, golden glow. Vehicles began to arrive, the sound of engines breaking the tranquil quiet. Conor and Kerrigan stepped out onto the stone steps of the main entrance, their faces unreadable as they watched the p

The air was heavy with the day’s events, and both Conor and Kerrigan where tired as they prepared to conduct the last of their interviews.Cathal O’Reilly was called in first. At just 25, she was the youngest of the dragoons they had interviewed so far, but her demeanor spoke of someone who had seen far more than her age suggested.She stepped into the room with an uneasy confidence, her eyes darting between Conor, Kerrigan, and Colonel Eli, finally settling on Reilynn. Her short, dark hair framed a sharp face, and her movements were precise, almost too deliberate, as if she were constantly calculating her surroundings.Cathal took her seat opposite Conor and Kerrigan, her back straight and her gaze unwavering. There was an edge to her questions, a subtle but unmistakable undertone of suspicion.“What exactly happened to Zadok?” Cathal asked, her voice calm but with a tremor of underlying tension. “We’ve heard rumors, but no one seems to have the full story.”Conor met her gaze evenly,

The Duke’s private study was as imposing as the man himself. The heavy oak desk that dominated the space had its surface cluttered with documents and reports that spoke of the responsibilities he bore as the Duke of Targu.Conor sat across from the Duke, feeling the weight of the man’s scrutiny. The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of an antique clock on the wall. Conor’s heart thudded in his chest, not from fear but from the heavy mix of anticipation and determination.He knew this meeting was a test, one that would determine how the Duke viewed him—not just as the newly declared Deinmaar of Celia, but as a man who now stood at Kerrigan’s side.The Duke’s gaze was piercing, his emotions barely concealed behind his carefully controlled expression. “Conor,” he began, his voice low and measured, “I’ve been eager to speak with you, and I won’t waste time with pleasantries. You made quite the declaration yesterday. Deinmaar of Celia… stepping into the role your mother once held

Kelan’s stomach twisted as the queen of hearts shimmered on the table, the final card that sealed his fate. Four of a kind—aces, beaten by a straight flush.The Triad leader’s grin stretched wide, smug satisfaction oozing from his every pore as he raked the massive pile of chips toward him. Stacked towers of reds, blues, and golds, the last remnants of Kelan’s pride, vanished in an instant.Kelan tried to keep his face neutral, but panic clawed at his insides, tightening his chest with every breath. He had been so damn sure that he had it.Those aces felt like destiny, a sign that he was back on top. Now, they were nothing but a reminder of his failures—worthless paper like all his broken promises.“Well, that was fun,” the Triad leader drawled, lighting a cigar with a deliberate flick of his gold lighter. He exhaled a cloud of thick smoke, letting it hang lazily in the air, a bitter symbol of Kelan’s defeat.Sergei, the host of tonight’s game, leaned back in his chair, tapping the ta

The atmosphere inside Elena Marchand’s law firm was thick with tension, but also a sense of controlled triumph. The team had just faced a relentless media storm and had come out unscathed, steering the narrative in their favor.As they filed into the conference room, a heavy silence settled over them, the weight of the battle they were fighting evident on every face.Kerrigan and Conor took seats at the long table, flanked by Colonel Eli, Sorcha, Reilynn, and Parker. The Dragoons, ever watchful, stood positioned near the exits, their eyes sharp and their senses on high alert.Elena Marchand and Cara Johnson were already seated, reviewing notes and updates from the press briefing.Sorcha, who had been standing near the window, finally spoke up, breaking the silence. Her voice was cautious, yet tinged with frustration. “I still don’t get it. Why didn’t we just name Kelan? Isn’t he the one pulling the strings? He’s the main focus, isn’t he?”Kerrigan glanced at Conor, then back to Sorcha