Semua Bab His Runaway Queen: Bab 131 - Bab 140

*Lucian’s POV*The penthouse, usually a place of solitude for me, had transformed into a bustling command center. But unlike the estate, which had always felt cold and militaristic, this space felt alive. It was filled with the sounds of a family healing.I sat at the dining table, a stack of dossiers in front of me. The Council was in an uproar. The burning of the estate, the kidnapping, the attack on the airfield – it was a cascade of failures that made the Drakov name look vulnerable. I had spent the morning on the phone, projecting a calm I didn't feel, reassuring old men who were terrified their investments were going up in smoke along with my house."Lucian."I looked up. Damian was hobbling into the room, leaning heavily on a cane he had refused to use in front of Adrian. He was dressed in a soft sweater and slacks, looking more like a professor than a mafia strategist."You should be in bed," I said, closing the file I was reading."I've been in bed for two days," he grumbled,

*Aria’s POV*Two weeks passed in the penthouse. Two weeks of a strange, suspended peace.The city moved on below us – traffic flowed, lights flickered, lives intersected—but up in the clouds, we were in a cocoon. The staff moved silently. Rylan coordinated a rotating guard detail that felt less like a siege and more like a protective embrace. And Damian… Damian was a force of nature.He had taken over the second guest bedroom, turning it into a war room of construction permits and architectural renderings. The rhythmic ‘scratch-scratch’ of his drafting pencil on vellum paper had become the soundtrack of our recovery. He was obsessed with the new house, with the promise of the mountain fortress. He spent hours on the phone with surveyors, arguing about soil density and load-bearing walls, his voice rising with a passion I hadn't heard since we were students.It was exactly what Lucian needed. Watching Damian work grounded him. It was proof that the future wasn't just a concept – it was

*Aria’s POV*The move to the Catskills wasn't a single event; it was a slow migration. Over the course of three weeks, the penthouse transformed from a fortress of solitude into a logistical hub. Boxes of tile samples, lighting catalogs, and heavy rolls of topographical maps slowly colonized the dining room table.Damian was the conductor of this orchestra. He had effectively moved into the guest wing, his life consumed by the project. I often woke up in the middle of the night to find the light still on in his study, the scratch of his drafting pen audible in the quiet hallway. He was obsessed with the "thermal envelope" of the house, a term he used to explain why he had rejected three different brands of windows for not being energy-efficient enough."It's a bunker with a view, Damian," Lucian had teased one morning, stepping over a pile of lumber samples. "I don't need it to pass a LEED Platinum certification.""You want it to stand for a hundred years," Damian had countered, not l

*Aria’s POV*The city had vanished.A blizzard, the weatherman called it. A "historic nor'easter" that had swept up the coast and slammed into Manhattan with a fury that felt personal. The penthouse, usually a vantage point overlooking a grid of lights and movement, was now an island in a sea of white. The windows were frosted at the edges, the outside world reduced to a blur of swirling snow and silence. Inside, the contrast was stark. The fire in the hearth was roaring, casting a warm, flickering glow across the living room. The only sounds were the low hum of the ventilation system and the clink of ice in a crystal glass.I stood by the window, my forehead resting against the cold glass, watching the storm consume the skyline. It felt like a metaphor for our lives – chaos swirling just inches away, held back only by the thickness of the glass and the strength of our will."You're going to freeze standing there," a low voice rumbled from behind me.I turned. Lucian was sitting on

*Aria’s POV*The peace was a lie. I knew it the moment I walked into the warehouse district.We had spent weeks in the penthouse, wrapped in the warmth of recovery and the excitement of the new house, but the city hadn't stopped bleeding. While I was choosing tile samples and watching Adrian play with robots, the vultures were circling.Rylan pulled the SUV to a stop in front of the loading dock. It was a desolate stretch of the Bronx waterfront, smelling of brine and diesel."Boss," Rylan said, his hand resting on the gear shift. "I don't like this. Meeting on their turf. At night. It’s sloppy.""They requested it," Lucian said from the back seat. He was dressed in his armor – a three-piece suit, dark as a bruise, his injured arm tucked inside his coat to hide the weakness. "I denied their request twice. The third time, they threatened a cargo ship. I can’t ignore that."He checked the magazine of his Sig Sauer, sliding it back into the holster under his jacket."Stay with the car, R