All Chapters of The Billionaire and his Blood-Bride: Chapter 161
- Chapter 170
182 chapters
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-One – What Remains in the Ashes
By morning, the mansion was nothing but a husk, smoke curling like slow ghosts from the blackened beams. The scent of burnt wood lingered in the salt air. Lana stood among the ashes, boots sinking into the soft remains of what once was a legacy, a lie, a monument to power.Grey was a few paces behind her, silent. His coat was damp, his face streaked faintly with soot. Neither of them had spoken since the fire died. Words, at this point, felt smaller than what they had lost—and what they had found.Lana crouched and picked up a fragment of glass, the edge still warm. She turned it in her palm. “You ever wonder if destroying it makes any difference?”Grey glanced at her. “You mean if we’ve actually stopped anything?”“Yeah.” She stood and brushed her hands on her coat. “We cut down one branch of the tree. But the roots…” She gestured toward the horizon. “They’re everywhere.”He nodded slowly. “Then we burn the forest next.”She smiled faintly. “You sound tired for a man ready to start a
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Two – The Shadows of the Ledger
By nightfall, the city felt like a trap pretending to be a haven. Neon lights hummed faintly against the drizzle, turning puddles into mirrors. Grey parked a few streets away from the old Thompson Holdings building — the one that still bore faint scars of the Foundation’s insignia beneath new paint.Lana stepped out first, scanning the street. “It’s quiet,” she murmured.“Too quiet,” Grey said, eyes flicking to the rooftops. “No guards, no lights on the upper floors. That’s not neglect — that’s control.”She followed his gaze. The building looked abandoned, but the air around it felt too watched, too deliberate. Someone wanted it to seem forgotten.Grey locked the car and started down the narrow lane beside the complex. A rusted side door stood half open, its hinges creaking softly in the wind. Inside, dust swirled in the beam of their flashlights, catching bits of plaster falling from the ceiling.They moved room to room in silence — desks overturned, papers half-burned, file drawers
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three – The Caldwell Estate
The countryside unfolded like a forgotten secret. Fields stretched endlessly under a bruised sky, and the narrow road wound through rows of skeletal trees that shivered in the morning wind. Grey drove without speaking, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The letter from Seraphine sat between them on the dashboard, its creased edges catching the weak sunlight.Lana hadn’t looked away from it since they left the city. “Do you believe her?” she asked at last.Grey didn’t answer immediately. “I believe she always had a plan. Whether it’s for our sake or hers—that’s the question.”Lana leaned back, arms crossed. “Every road she’s sent us down has ended with fire or a body. Maybe this one will be different.”He gave a humorless smile. “You don’t sound convinced.”“I’m not.”They turned off the main road onto a gravel path overgrown with weeds. The sign at the entrance read Caldwell Estate in flaking gold letters. Beyond it, an iron gate sagged on its hinges, and behind that, the outline of a man
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four – The Woman in the Photograph
The hotel room was dim, the curtains drawn tight against the morning light. A clock ticked faintly on the wall, counting down the silence. Grey stood by the window, his shirt half-buttoned, eyes fixed on the street below. Lana sat at the desk across the room, the wooden box open before her. She had spent the better part of an hour studying the photographs Seraphine had left behind, one by one, as though each image held a fragment of truth she had missed.Most were faded black-and-white shots—Foundation gatherings, nondescript buildings, a few faces she barely recognized. But one photo stood out: a young woman with storm-dark eyes and the same slant of cheekbones as Lana herself. She stood beside Seraphine, her arm around her shoulder. On the back, a single name was written in slanted ink: Marin.Grey turned when he heard Lana exhale sharply. “You found something?”She handed him the photograph. “Her name’s Marin. Seraphine wrote about her in the journal—said if they found her before s
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Five – The House on Bracken Street
By the time they crossed into the northern district, dawn had broken over the rooftops in pale strips of light. The city still slept beneath it, quiet and indifferent. Grey drove without a word, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw tight with thought. Lana sat beside him, the letter folded neatly in her lap. Every now and then, her fingers brushed the edge of the paper, as though to remind herself it was real.Neither of them had spoken since Marin disappeared. Her words—It begins again—hung between them, unanswered.“Vienna,” Grey said at last, his tone rough. “That’s a continent away. We can’t just walk into another country without knowing what’s waiting there.”Lana didn’t look up. “Seraphine’s trail always pointed forward. Not once did it loop back. If she wanted us to stop, she wouldn’t have left directions.”He glanced at her. “You sound like you’ve already decided.”“I have,” she said quietly. “If Marin’s right, then Vienna isn’t just another name. It’s the finish line she bui
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Six – The Train to Vienna
The train cut through the countryside like a whisper, its rhythm steady, almost hypnotic. Outside, dawn thinned into daylight, spilling over the fog-draped fields and long, empty stretches of rail. Inside, everything smelled faintly of metal, dust, and coffee gone cold.Lana sat by the window, her reflection fractured by the glass, the passing landscape sliding across her face like pieces of a half-forgotten dream. The folder Lormont had given them lay open on the small table between her and Grey — maps, coded instructions, and the black envelope with the red-etched seal. She hadn’t opened that yet. Not because she was afraid, but because she already knew whatever was inside would shift the ground beneath her again.Grey, seated opposite her, read through a copy of the passenger manifest he’d pulled from the train attendant. “You realize this car’s practically empty,” he said quietly. “Only five others on board. Too few for a morning departure.”Lana didn’t look up. “Then it’s either
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Seven – The Red Room Archives
Vienna shimmered under a pale winter sun, the streets slick with melted frost and the breath of morning commuters fogging the air. The city had an old-world calm — graceful, deliberate, steeped in history — but Lana could feel the tension coiled beneath it. Every step she took through the cobbled lanes carried a strange awareness, like someone breathing just behind her shoulder.The Archives stood at the end of an empty boulevard, half-shrouded in scaffolding. Once, it had been a psychiatric institute — its facade still carried the scars of a government that had tried to erase its own experiments. Now, its windows were tinted black, its security cameras motionless. Officially, the Red Room Archives were “closed for renovation.” Unofficially, they were still very much alive.Grey stood beside her, collar turned up against the wind. “You’re sure your contact’s still reliable?”“He owes me more than he wants to admit,” Lana said, pulling her gloves tighter. “And fear keeps men punctual.”
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Eight – Through the Red Halls
The alarm lights stuttered across the walls, bathing everything in crimson flashes that made it hard to tell where one shadow ended and another began. Lana moved first, pressing herself against the wall as Grey covered their flank. The air smelled of rust and cold metal — the scent of something long buried that should have stayed that way.Dr. Weiss led them through a narrow service corridor lined with broken conduits and peeling paint. Every few steps, the floor shook from distant impacts. Heavy boots echoed from above — measured, precise, not in panic but in pursuit. Whoever was coming wasn’t rushing; they already knew their prey had nowhere to run.“Faster,” Weiss hissed.Lana turned a corner and nearly slipped on the wet concrete. Her hand found the railing, fingers brushing over flaked paint. “Where does this lead?”“The sub-vaults,” Weiss said. “They were meant to hold overflow records when the main chambers filled. But Seraphine used them differently.”Grey’s voice was low. “Di
Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Nine – The Canal Exit
The tunnel sloped downward, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. Water trickled along the sides, reflecting the weak glow of Grey’s flashlight. The sound of their footsteps echoed endlessly, bouncing off stone walls that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades.Lana’s hand brushed the damp wall as she followed, the map clutched in her other hand. The red line Weiss had drawn was simple—too simple. It ended abruptly at a small mark by the canal, with no clear indication of what waited there.Grey slowed, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re almost out of light.”Lana nodded. Her throat was dry, her pulse uneven. She couldn’t stop thinking about Weiss—the sound of his last breath, the soft echo of that single gunshot. It hadn’t been fear in his eyes; it was resolve. He’d stayed behind to give them this chance.“Do you think he made it?” she asked quietly.Grey’s silence was answer enough.They walked a little farther before the tunnel widened into a half-collapsed chamber. Piles of
Chapter One Hundred and Seventy – The Rail Yard
The stairwell was narrow and steep, the metal steps slick with rainwater dripping through cracks in the ceiling. Lana gripped the railing, her breath sharp in her chest as she followed Grey and Raines down into the shadows. Behind them, the sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse, muffled by distance but growing closer, angrier. “Keep moving,” Raines urged, his limp slowing him but not stopping him. “They’ll sweep the floor in less than two minutes.” The stairwell opened into a vast underground passage—an old service corridor running parallel to the rail yard. The stench of rust and oil filled the air. Shafts of weak daylight filtered through the broken vents above, illuminating streaks of graffiti and long-forgotten warning signs. Grey scanned ahead, pistol raised. “Where does this lead?” Raines pointed with his good hand. “Old maintenance tunnel. Ends near the canal tracks. If we can reach the service office, I can trigger the secondary exit gate.” Lana looked around at