Kaida's grip on Viktor's collar loosened instantly, her entire body going rigid.

That presence outside—cold, dangerous, and sharp as a blade pressed against skin. Someone was out there. Someone who reeked of death.

"There's someone dangerous outside," she hissed, her red eyes snapping toward the window.

Viktor's smirk vanished. He pulled back from her grip, turning his head toward the glass pane across the hall. His dark eyes narrowed.

For a moment, the manor was silent except for Helena's soft, unconscious breathing on the ruined bed behind them.

Then Viktor moved.

He walked past Kaida—past Mira, who stood frozen in the doorway—and headed straight for the window overlooking the front grounds. His boots clicked against the marble, calm and measured, but there was tension in his shoulders now.

Kaida followed, her hand instinctively reaching for the sword that wasn't there.

Viktor reached the window and looked out.

His eyes widened.

He blinked once. Twice.

'No.'

Without a word, he turned and 'ran'.

"What the—Viktor!" Kaida shouted, but he was already gone, his footsteps thundering down the hallway.

Kaida stood there, stunned. Helena was still passed out. Mira remained in the doorway, mouth hanging open. And Kaida—Kaida's instincts screamed at her to follow.

She took off after him.

'''

Viktor's lungs burned as he sprinted through the manor, his mind racing faster than his legs.

'She actually sent her.'

He burst through the front entrance, the heavy doors slamming open as he stumbled down the stone steps. His breath came in sharp gasps, his heart pounding—not from exertion, but from something else.

'Finally.'

The manor gate loomed ahead, wrought iron and old stone, and beyond it, a carriage had just arrived. The horses were still settling, their breath visible in the cool evening air.

And standing beside the carriage, calm as ever, was Gareth.

The man's hands were clasped together, rubbing slightly as if cold. His expression was neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—nervousness? Calculation?

Viktor's gaze snapped to the figure behind him.

A young woman. Cloaked. Covered in dirt and grime, her clothes torn and stained. Her face was hidden beneath the hood, but Viktor didn't need to see it.

His eyes locked onto her tail.

A tail—slender, feline, peeking out from beneath the cloak. But it wasn't whole. The end was jagged, cut off cleanly, like someone had taken a blade and severed it without care.

Viktor's jaw clenched.

'Bella.'

His chest tightened. Memories flooded back—memories of another life, another timeline. Memories of this same woman, broken and traumatized, standing in the rain after Elena's banishment.

Memories of him saving her, protecting her, watching her slowly come back to life.

But that was 'then'.

This was 'now'.

And now, Elena had sent her here. To him. To this cursed manor. Most likely not to kill him—no, Elena wouldn't waste Bella on something so simple. She'd want Viktor to 'suffer'.

Which meant the target was probably Helena.

'Bitch.'

Viktor stopped a few paces from the gate, his breath steadying. His mind was already working, calculating. Strong women were coming to him, one after another, like pieces on a board. And Bella—Bella was a 'jackpot'. If he could turn her, if he could save her 'again'...

He forced his anger down, burying it deep. His expression smoothed out, becoming neutral, almost welcoming.

Gareth stepped forward and bowed. "Greetings, young master. I—"

"How are you?"

Gareth froze mid-sentence, blinking.

Viktor wasn't looking at him. He'd walked right past the carriage driver and stopped directly in front of the cloaked woman. His dark eyes stared into the shadow of her hood, his voice soft but firm.

"How are you?" he repeated.

The woman didn't move. Didn't speak. She just stood there, hollow and cold, like a doll waiting for commands.

Then, slowly, she gave a small bow. Her head dipped forward, her hood shifting slightly to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and hollow eyes.

But she said nothing.

Viktor's hand clenched into a fist at his side.

'Damn it.'

He'd seen her like this before. Traumatized. Broken. A slave who'd been used and discarded so many times she didn't even know how to speak for herself anymore.

But Viktor knew better.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his rage back down. Then he turned toward Gareth, who stood there looking utterly confused.

"Let's both of you head inside," Viktor said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Gareth opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced at the cloaked woman, then back at Viktor, clearly trying to piece together what the hell was happening.

He'd prepared a whole story—about how he'd 'rescued' this poor woman from slave traders on the road, how he thought it would be good to bring her to serve the young master.

But Viktor wasn't asking.

Viktor wasn't questioning him at all.

And that made Gareth 'very' uncomfortable.

Viktor turned and walked back toward the manor entrance, his stride confident. Behind him, Gareth hesitated, then followed. The cloaked woman trailed silently, her tail dragging slightly in the dirt.

As they approached the doors, Kaida stepped into view, her red eyes narrowed into slits. She was glaring—not at Viktor, not at Gareth, but at the 'woman'.

Her instincts were screaming. Whoever this bitch was, she was dangerous.

Viktor caught her gaze and gave a single, small nod.

Kaida's glare intensified, but she stepped aside, letting them pass.

The group entered the manor, footsteps echoing through the grand hall. Viktor led them to the sitting room, where the couches were still arranged neatly despite the chaos that had unfolded earlier.

"Sit," Viktor said, gesturing toward the furniture.

Gareth sat awkwardly on the edge of a couch, his hands folded in his lap. The cloaked woman remained standing, her head bowed, her posture stiff and obedient.

Then, from the far corner of the room, a small figure appeared.

Toby.

The little boy with dementia, his wide eyes curious and innocent, shuffled forward. He looked up at the cloaked woman, tilting his head.

Then, without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand.

"What happened, aunty?" Toby asked, his voice soft and genuine. "Why are you so dirty?"

The cloaked woman flinched.

Her hollow eyes flicked down to the boy, then up to Viktor.

Viktor looked at Toby, his expression softening for just a moment. He ruffled the boy's hair gently, then his gaze snapped to Gareth.

And he 'glared'.

Gareth's breath hitched. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Viktor's dark eyes were cold, sharp, cutting through every layer of bullshit Gareth had prepared.

'He knows.'

Gareth swallowed hard, his mind racing. Viktor wasn't asking why he'd left. He wasn't asking why he'd brought a woman back. He wasn't asking 'anything'.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

"Hey," Viktor said, his voice low and dangerous. "Follow me. Let's talk."

Gareth blinked. Then, stiffly, he stood.

Viktor turned and walked toward the far hallway, his footsteps echoing. Gareth followed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Behind them, the cloaked woman—Bella—stood frozen. Her gaze lingered on Viktor's retreating back for a moment.

Then she looked down at the child still holding her hand.

Toby smiled up at her, innocent and warm.

And for the first time in years, something flickered in Bella's hollow eyes.

Something almost like 'pain'.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.