Victor Idv の小説・ストーリー

Alpha Victor. He stepped in, followed by Idris, whose face wore a grim mask of duty. In Victor’s hands was a small, ancient metal box, locked and pitted with age. He regarded me with deep sympathy, then turned to Sophia with a look of disappointment that felt more fatherly than angry. It was masterfully composed.

I press my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose, eyes closed, with an exhale. “Don’t call me ever again, Connor. I mean it,” I breathe out and hang up. I bite the insides of my mouth, tears pooling in my eyes for whatever reason. I raise my head, willing for the tears to return to where they came from, but Victor’s voice interrupts me. “I’m skilled at what I do, Doc. I can ensure he goes missing and will never be found, just give me a name and his location,” Victor says, his hands resting on the steering wheel, body turned towards me with that same serious expression on his face.

Adrian said nothing, offering only a silent motion toward the marshals. “Take him.” Victor rose to his feet like he’d been expecting a red carpet, his wrists already bound behind his back in magnetic cuffs. He didn’t flinch when one marshal seized his arm, the other reading him his rights with calm, practiced precision. “You are under arrest for conspiracy, attempted murder, kidnapping, corporate sabotage, and multiple charges under the federal criminal code. You have the right to remain silent…” Victor turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Adrian. “You think this is the end?” he asked, voice low, almost amused. “You’ve no idea what’s coming.”

His knee bounced a steady rhythm, and his fingers twitched like he was texting in his head. Finally, the door crashed open with all the subtlety of a SWAT raid. Victor stepped in, hood up, eyes fever-bright behind thick glasses. He carried a battered laptop under one arm, cords snaking out of his backpack like intestines. He nodded at Grant, then at me, but didn’t speak until the door was locked and bolted behind him. “Sorry I’m late, Alpha.” Victor’s voice was higher than I expected, almost reedy, like he’d been running on nothing but nicotine and adrenaline for days. “Had to lose a tail.”

The man broke the awkwardness by inviting Jasmine to get to know him. "Are you Jasmine? Lorensius said that she is a VIP woman who can only serve men chosen by her." The ori asked in a slightly intimidating tone. "Let me introduce myself, my name is Mike Aidden. Many people are afraid of me and I'm not a good guy either. I live in a dark world and I am a very feared mafia," he explained, which made Jasmine pensive. "Why are you telling me this, you are not afraid that I will take advantage of you?"

Daisy’s POV “Why do you want a copy of the Video?” I asked Victor. He seemed angrier after he saw it was Shane who helped me. “I need it to have the two jocks identified,” Victor replied. “I don’t want to go after the wrong men.” “You’re going after them?” I asked. “What are you going to do to them?” “Don’t worry about it,” Victor insisted and held me tightly. “But they won’t bother you again.”

She is in the grave, unable to watch her child grow. Ramon Fridling was the only thing in her mind, Violet was hell bent on killing him, it was another mission of hers, to kill Ramon Fridling because he was the reason why Scarlet died. If Scarlet didn’t marry him, she was going to be alive today, but she isn’t.

I’d been drowning in the illusion of Zenya for months, and now there was someone else—someone with the same eyes—spilling truth like blood on marble. “At seventeen, I started digging. Tracking the origins of everything they told me. And eventually…” He paused and looked directly at Miguel. “I found your father. Senator Myers.” Miguel’s eyes flared wide. “You tracked that down at seventeen?” Viktor laughed quietly and pulled something from his pocket. His ID. “I didn’t sleep. I’m the owner of V-Core, the most advanced AI-integrated cybernetics system in the world. You think hacking a few archives scared me?”

A figure stepped out of the shadows, tall and impeccably dressed, with a smirk that made my skin crawl. “Thiago Bermudez,” the man drawled, his tone dripping with false charm. “And the infamous Bridgette Martinez. What a pleasure.” “Who are you?” Thiago’s posture was rigid, protective as he placed himself slightly in front of me. “Call me Victor,” the man said, his grin widening. “But I’m not here to play games. I have something you want.” Victor tossed a USB drive onto the ground. It landed between us with a soft clatter.