2026-07-06 20:39:43
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Chapter 617
Christopher thought about the nightmare—the cemetery, the grief, the weight of blood that flowed through his veins. He thought about Harry's journal, about the shadow that had been hunting them all. He thought about Chance, who had stood in the training room and looked at him with eyes that held no judgment, only hope.What if I'm not ready? he thought. What if I'm not good enough? What if they see me the way I see myself—a failure, a ghost, a villain who doesn't deserve a second chance?He reached for the ignition, his fingers trembling. He could turn back. He could drive away, disappear into the shadows, pretend he had never come. It would be easier. Safer.But then he imagined seeing Chance's face in his mind, and also hearing his voice: I'm just glad you're here.Christopher closed his eyes. He took a breath. And he opened the car door.The cold air hit him like a slap, sharp and bracing. He stood beside the car, looking up at the estate, the warm lights spilling out onto the grav
Chapter 616
Chance arrived within the hour. He found Wilfreda sitting on the floor of Harry's apartment, the journal clutched to her chest, her face streaked with tears."Wilfreda," he said, kneeling beside her. "What happened?"She handed him the journal, her voice barely a whisper. "Read the last entries."Chance took the journal and read. His face grew pale as he reached the final pages."A shadow," he said slowly. "Someone watching him. Someone targeting him."Wilfreda nodded. "He was scared, Chance. He was trying to protect us. And he died before he could figure out what was going on."Chance's jaw tightened. "This sounds like Koslov. The way he operated—the shadows, the whispers. It's his signature.""But Koslov is gone," Wilfreda said. "We banished him. He can't be behind this."Chance was silent for a long moment. Then he said: "Maybe Koslov isn't the only one. Maybe there's someone else out there. Someone who's been waiting for the right moment to strike."Wilfreda's eyes widened. "Someo
Chapter 615
The apartment was cold, the windows rattling against the wind. Christopher lay on a worn mattress in the corner, his eyes closed, his body tense even in sleep. The darkness pressed against the walls, thick and suffocating, feeding on the anger and bitterness that had consumed him for so long.And then the nightmare came.He was standing in a cemetery, the sky gray and heavy, the air thick with grief. In the distance, he saw a crowd gathered around a grave—the O'Connors, their heads bowed, their shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He recognized them all. Chance, his face streaked with tears. Wilfreda, her body wracked with grief. Julia, holding them both together, her eyes hollow with loss.Harry's grave.Christopher watched as Chance knelt, placing a white rose on the earth. He heard his brother's whisper, carried by the wind: "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."He saw Wilfreda fall to her knees, her hands clutching the headstone, her sobs tearing through the silence
Chapter 614
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet. The cold seeped into their bones, biting and unrelenting, but neither woman moved. Wilfreda's knees were numb against the frozen grass, her fingers white-knuckled against the headstone. Marta sat beside her, her breath forming small clouds in the chill air.Minutes passed. Or hours. Time had lost all meaning in the weight of grief.Finally, Marta stirred. Her joints protested as she rose, her hand reaching down to Wilfreda. "We should go home," she said softly. "He would want you to be warm. To be safe."Wilfreda nodded, but her eyes lingered on the headstone, tracing the letters of Harry's name. She didn't want to leave him. She didn't want to face the empty house, the cold bed, the silence that would greet her.But Marta's hand was warm, patient. And Wilfreda knew she couldn't stay here forever.She let Marta help her to her feet, her legs unsteady, her body heavy with exhaustion. She took one last loo
Chapter 613
The night had settled over the estate like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. Chance stood by the window in the library, staring out at the darkness, his reflection ghostly in the glass. He could still see Wilfreda's face—the hollow eyes, the shattered expression, the way she had crumpled to her knees in the entrance hall.Julia entered quietly, her footsteps soft on the worn carpet. She carried two cups of tea, steam curling from their surfaces. She set one on the table beside Chance and wrapped her hands around the other, her fingers cold despite the warmth."You should drink something," she said softly. "You've been standing here for hours."Chance didn't turn around. "I can't stop thinking about him. Harry. He was just starting to heal. He was just starting to find his way back to us."Julia moved to stand beside him, her gaze fixed on the same darkness. "I know. I saw it too. The way he had once looked at Wilfreda—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered." She
Chapter 612
Miranda met his gaze, her voice unwavering. "I don't think, Chance. I know. I've handled cases like this before—cases where the evidence is circumstantial at best. The police are grasping because they have no other suspects. But they don't have a case. And I'm going to make sure they know it."Julia stepped forward, her voice laced with gratitude. "Thank you, Miranda. For coming so quickly. For being here."Miranda nodded, her expression softening. "She's family. And we don't abandon family."Chance's throat tightened. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come."Miranda reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "You would have done the same for me. That's what family does."She turned back toward the officer's desk, her voice carrying across the station. "I want to see the autopsy report. And I want to see the scene photographs. If there's even a hint of evidence that points away from Wilfreda, I will find it."The officer nodded, already pulling up files on his computer.*
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