Kerrigan woke in her Jinstain estate bed, the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns across the room.She stretched, feeling the slight ache in her muscles, but as her hand swept across the sheets, she frowned. Conor’s side of the bed was cold. Disappointment tugged at her as she sat up, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.She dressed quickly, pulling on a loose blouse and fitted jeans. The house was unusually quiet as she made her way down the grand staircase, the faint hum of voices pulling her toward the kitchen.As she rounded the corner, she found her entire team gathered, hunched over Reilynn's tablet, their faces illuminated by the screen’s blue glow. The air was thick with tension, the usual morning banter replaced by somber silence.Kerrigan’s heart quickened. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice breaking the uneasy quiet.The team parted slightly, allowing her to see the video playing on the tablet. It was a news report from
Kelan Benedict sat in the dimly lit private lounge of his club in Velyki, nursing a glass of bourbon that had long since lost its allure. The atmosphere was heavy with tension, a far cry from the usual buzz of illicit deals and hushed conversations.Tonight, the club was quiet, almost suffocatingly so. Kelan’s eyes were fixed on the wide screen in front of him, where the evening news anchor was delivering the latest headlines.Each word felt like a punch to his gut.The screen flickered, showing the smoldering remains of the violin shop once owned by Master Luthier Gunther—a beloved artisan whose work Kerrigan Lokir had praised on numerous occasions. The news anchor spoke in a grave tone, highlighting the loss of one of Velyki’s cultural treasures.Kelan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The fire hadn’t been his doing, but the timing was damning. It didn’t take much for the media to spin it as another example of his reckless disregard for anything not serving his own ambitions.“This
The morning air carried a crisp chill as Conor, Kerrigan, and Sorcha stepped out of the SUV, their boots crunching on the gravel driveway of the once-beautiful violin shop.Smoke and charred wood lingered in the air, the acrid scent of loss and devastation permeating the quiet street.The shop that had once been filled with the soothing strains of masterful violins and the soft murmur of customers was now nothing but a blackened skeleton, its heart and soul reduced to ashes.Master Gunther, the elderly luthier who had built the shop from the ground up, stood at the edge of the rubble, his shoulders slumped. The faint sound of creaking timbers echoed as a light wind blew through the remains, carrying away fragments of the past.His hands, usually steady and confident, trembled slightly as he ran a hand over what was left of the carved sign that had hung proudly above his door for decades.The sign was barely readable now, scorched and broken, like a cruel reminder of the destruction wr
Cynthia Cochan stared at the thick stack of papers on the kitchen table, her manicured fingers tapping impatiently. The morning sunlight streamed through the large bay windows, casting a harsh glare on the bleak reality before her.The once-thriving Cochan Mall was teetering on the edge of collapse, and every page in front of her detailed just how precarious their financial situation had become.It was a bitter pill to swallow, one made worse by the strained silence between her and her husband, who sat across the table with a furrowed brow.They were waiting for Abbie Wiess, the representative from Golan National Bank. Cynthia’s nerves were frayed, and her distaste for the meeting was evident.The bank’s offer was the first real interest anyone had shown in months, but there was a sting in knowing that they were being targeted as a bargain investment, prey for the vultures circling their struggling business.Jessica Cochan leaned against the counter, scrolling through her phone absent
The sun was setting behind the distant Targu mountains, casting long shadows that stretched over Jinstain’s bustling streets.Just outside the city, where nature blocked all sight and sound of city life, Conor and Kerrigan sat in the spacious study, papers and maps spread out before them.A small fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth comforting but not enough to ease the tension that hung in the air.Sorcha stood by the door, vigilant as ever, her eyes constantly scanning the room and its surroundings.Parker leaned casually against the far wall, arms crossed, but his relaxed posture was misleading. His sharp gaze never strayed far from Conor even here in their Jinstain stronghold.Kerrigan glanced at Conor, her brow furrowed as she sorted through a stack of documents. “We’ve put Kelan on the run, and every day that he stays hidden, Gregor’s hold weakens. But it’s not enough. We need to plan our next move carefully.”Conor nodded, his expression focused. “Kelan’s desperate, and a d
Just under a week later, Conor and Kerrigan found themselves looking out at the Kings castle in the capital of Golan. The grand hall of the royal palace was a magnificent sight, towering ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and ancient heroes. Tall windows lined the walls, casting beams of sunlight onto the polished marble floor, where each step echoed with the weight of history.The air was thick with anticipation and tension, as if the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for the confrontation that would soon unfold.Conor and Kerrigan were shown to their chambers by a silent procession of servants, their retinue of dragoons trailing behind with a sense of purpose. Sorcha kept her eyes sharp, her posture stiff and ready, while Parker walked close behind Conor, scanning the opulent corridors for any sign of trouble. Reilynn and Evelynn trailed Kerrigan, this event needing everyone’s full attention. The colonel had even sent along several other gu
The atmosphere in the grand chamber of the High Counsel of Nobles was tense and charged. Ornate chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a glow over the room that was equal parts majestic and foreboding.The long table at the center was flanked by plush chairs occupied by the most powerful figures in the kingdom. Each of them wore expressions ranging from guarded skepticism to outright disdain as Conor and Kerrigan entered, escorted by their dragoons.Sorcha moved with practiced vigilance, her sharp eyes scanning every corner of the room, while Parker stood firmly at Conor’s side, his presence a reassuring wall of strength.Conor’s gaze met Kerrigan’s briefly, a silent exchange of support and resolve. The two moved confidently to their seats, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of tension that rippled through the room.Aileana MacKenna, their press secretary, had met with them earlier in the day. She had prepped them for this exact moment, urging them to maintain compos
The guest quarters assigned to Kerrigan and her team in the royal capital were steeped in a sterile opulence that offered little comfort. The heavy velvet drapes muted the light, casting the room in a somber glow, while the ornate furnishings seemed to loom over the occupants—a reminder of the old power structures they had just confronted in the High Council.Kerrigan sat in a high-backed chair, the aftershocks of Abraxas’s power still pulsing beneath her skin, gradually ebbing away. Conor stood beside her, one hand resting gently on the arm of her chair.His presence was a steadying force, and as his hand touched hers, the lingering essence of Celia’s and Abraxas’s power began to fade, dissolving into motes of golden light that shimmered briefly before subsiding into a peaceful calm.Faolan lay at their feet, alert but relaxed, her ears twitching at every distant sound from the hallway outside.The rest of the team had gathered in the sitting room, the tension from the day’s events s