Conor’s heart skipped a beat at Kerrigan’s words. He sat up straighter, the late-night fatigue vanishing in an instant. "You found the link?" His voice was steady, but inside, adrenaline surged."Yes," Kerrigan replied, her tone urgent but controlled. "Theo gave me a folder this morning with everything he’s found on Grain. I was going through it tonight, and there it was—Grain’s signature, right next to Kelan’s, on a shipping receipt for a shipment coming from Bayan Rail."Conor was already reaching for a notepad, scribbling down the key details. "What’s the date on the receipt?""About three months ago," Kerrigan answered. "It’s buried in a stack of routine documents. But the thing is, it’s not just any shipment. It’s a large one, and the destination is one of the warehouses we’ve been looking into—one linked to the Benedict Group that Kelan has been repurposing."Conor frowned, the pieces falling into place. "So Kelan’s been funneling shipments through Bayan Rail to Targu, then usin
Kerrigan arrived at her office early, hoping to catch up on some work before the day’s meetings began. The morning sun filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the room. As she stepped inside, she was immediately struck by the sight of Natalie standing on a chair, carefully hanging a large framed painting on the bare wall that Kerrigan had always meant to decorate but never quite got around to."Morning, Natalie," Kerrigan greeted, walking over to get a better look at the painting. It was beautiful—a serene waterfall cascading into a crystal-clear pond, surrounded by lush greenery. The detail was incredible, each brushstroke capturing the essence of nature in a way that made it almost feel like you could hear the water rushing down the rocks.Kerrigan’s eyes were drawn to a spot near the pond where a dog was perched on a rock, its coat glistening in the sunlight. She blinked, leaning in closer. It wasn’t just any dog—it was Faolan. There was no mistaking the slee
Two days later, Conor sat at his place at the head of the long conference table, the wall mounted screen glowing as the video conference connected. The weight of the upcoming discussion pressed heavily on him. This wasn’t just another business meeting—this was a war council, a gathering of allies who were about to launch an assault on the deep corruption rooted within Dragon Corporation and the Benedict Group.As the screen loaded, familiar faces began to appear. Mr. Nuri was first, his expression as sharp and focused as ever, followed by Jarad, who looked equally determined. Conor knew that these two had been working tirelessly since the investigation began. They had found threads of evidence, but now it was time to weave those threads into an unbreakable net.Today, they had opted to conference in from Mr. Nuri’s office, their notes all around them and they prepared their brief’s for the team.Colonel Eli’s face appeared next from the security station down stairs, his presence a com
The late afternoon sun filtered through the apple tree’s branches, casting dappled shadows on the ground where Conor sat in the park. It had been a few days since the war room meeting and ahe air was turning crisp with the first hints of autumn, a cool breeze rustling the oak leaves as they slowly began to turn from green to shades of gold and red.It was a beautiful day, the kind of day that usually brought peace to his heart. But today, the beauty of nature only served as a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost, and what he was still trying to hold on to.Conor shifted slightly on the bench beneath the tree, the worn leather journal resting on his lap. The Bayan provincial crest was embossed on the cover, a proud symbol of the land he loved.Wrapped around the crest was the image of a dragon in flight, echoing the design of the ring he wore on his finger. The journal had become his most trusted confidant, the only place where he could be completely honest about his feelings, his
Conor's gaze was fixed on the cityscape beyond the office window, his mind hundreds of miles away. The early autumn sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets of Jinstain. The weight of recent events pressed heavily on his shoulders, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Velyki—and to Kerrigan.A knock at the door broke his reverie. He turned to see Mr. Nuri entering the room, a somber expression on his face. The seasoned lawyer carried a worn, ancient-looking scroll, carefully protected within a leather casing."Conor," Mr. Nuri began, his voice low and serious. "I’ve found something that I believe you need to see."Conor motioned for him to sit, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"Mr. Nuri gently unrolled the scroll, revealing a scrap of old parchment, yellowed with age and covered in faded writing. The script was in an ancient language, one that Conor recognized only because of the research he had been doing into the dragon legends."This," Nuri said, tapping
Kerrigan sat at her desk, her fingers absently tracing the edges of a folder as she tried to focus on the work in front of her. The morning had been a whirlwind of meetings, reports, and the constant hum of emails demanding her attention.She barely remembered what she was reading when the Prince’s call came through, his voice smooth and confident, yet carrying an undercurrent of expectation."Countess Lokir," his voice filled the silence of her office, "I trust you received my gift?"Kerrigan’s mind scrambled to recall the item, and then it hit her—the gaudy necklace. She fought to keep her tone polite, though her heart wasn’t in it. "Yes, Your Highness, I did. Thank you. It’s... very generous.""Generosity is the least I can offer to someone as remarkable as you," the Prince replied, his charm evident, though Kerrigan could hear the pride behind it. "I hope it suits you. I chose it with care."Kerrigan smiled politely, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. It wouldn’t matter,
Kelan marched through the opulent halls of Dragon Corporation with a furious energy that caused heads to turn and conversations to stop mid-sentence. His shoes clacked sharply against the polished marble floors, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent corridor.He ignored the curious and fearful glances from employees as he made his way to his office, his mind focused on one thing—Kerrigan Lokir.The door to his office closed with a heavy thud as Kelan stormed inside, immediately yanking his phone from his pocket. The anger that had been boiling within him since his last encounter with Kerrigan threatened to overflow. He dialed quickly, and after only two rings, his father’s voice crackled through the line.“Kelan,” Gregor Benedict’s voice was as sharp as ever, with a hint of impatience. “This had better be important.”“It is,” Kelan growled, pacing the length of his office. “Kerrigan’s meddling again. She’s got people sniffing around my club, poking their noses where they don’
Kelan drummed his fingers rhythmically against the polished wood as he mulled over his father’s words. The plan was audacious, but if executed correctly, it could cement his place in the upper echelons of power. Still, the stakes were high—one misstep, and everything could come crashing down.He reached for the glass of whiskey he kept on his desk, taking a slow sip as he let the warmth spread through him. The liquid courage helped to steady his nerves, but it did little to ease the growing tension in his chest. He needed to start putting the pieces into place, and quickly.His thoughts returned to the prince. The man was an annoyance, hovering around Kerrigan like a lovesick puppy. Kelan sneered at the thought. The prince’s interest in Kerrigan was more than just romantic—it was strategic. And that made him a threat.Setting his glass down, Kelan picked up his phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. It rang only once before a voice answered, smooth and professional.“Mr. Benedict