Chapter 72

**Orian POV
The Villa**


I walk into what was her bedroom, vacant and pristine. I venture deeper, my eyes scouring the interior—my mind pulls at memories, flashes of unbound desire. The mind-melting sensation that crossed an uncharted frontier of feelings, unraveling a realm of deific intimacy. With her legs parted, a gateway opened—the feeling of being inside her tore away the ephemeral existence of mortal conception and opened a new universe, unleashing, all-enveloping emotions, the godlike awareness of every inch and crevice that I had claimed—an all-consuming power that made me lose control in ways I didn’t even think was possible. The violent tug of desire, the vicious insatiable want that was unquenchable. She who with a single touch kindles a thousand fires within me. And when I had her bare and exposed to my mercy—she roused my most primal and savage self.

Images torment my mind, the desire that became dread. I almost flinch at the echo of her soul-piercing scream, her strained pleas and still I didn’t relent. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. A truth that sends a rush of rage inside and I upturn the loveseat sofa. Every glass ornament explodes on impact as I pitch them at the wall, scattering shards. From my soul stirs a cosmic chaos—undefined and fathomless. Anything that’s not bolted to the ground, muscles bunch in my back as I heft and hurl standalone fixtures across the room—a world of wrath unbridling a ferocity that demolishes the room in an instant. Dents blast through the wall as I launch a barrage of punches until my knuckles bleed. The last remaining object, I throw at the balcony door and it shatters through the glass pane, clattering on the platform on the other side outside.

“Orian!”

I rotate and my eyes fly to see a silhouette in the doorway behind me in the reflection of a mirror mounted on the wall. I catch a glimpse of my half-burnt face, charred and mottled, the skin an uneven landscape of red and raw flesh, crisscrossed by a web of scar tissue. Patches of discolored skin blend with areas of pale, almost translucent tissue. I smash a fist through the center, fracturing the glass, indifferent to the roar of pain throbbing through my hand.

“Do you have a location on Santos?”

“No, but we have a lead on Torin.”

Anger gives way to a surge of corrosive resentment, more than anger, worse than anguish. I don’t blame him for taking her away from him. But I will slowly wrench apart his limbs, one by one for using her against me. We had found data partials of well-advanced plans as well as the, almost untraceable, offshore accounts that prove he had been planning to betray me for a long time. Long before Sakura came and now he’s using her to twist the dagger further into my back. But I should’ve seen this—I did, but I refused to accept it. Torin has always been one to uphold his self-interests above all else. However, what benefitted me, benefited him so that’s what locked in the impression of loyalty. A facade of fealty he used to try to skim off billions and tried to orchestrate his own trade agreements and deals with high-value associates.

He turned his back on me like I meant nothing to him and I had done nothing for him.

This I could forgive. Using Hadassah, that I cannot.

I know more than anyone that an empire is not made; it’s taken. Torin couldn’t face me nor the consequences of his betrayal so he’s using Hadassah’s life as a shield.

I never hide who I am nor my nature. But he has used that truth to disguise his own deceit. I know now that there’s only one person Torin truly loves. I follow Ryo out of the room and he leads the way two flights down to the high-ceiling work room occupied by a whole team. Ryo guides us over to where the cryptographer is at his station, consulting a splay of screens, monitoring the data as he types fervently on the keyboard. Ryo thumps his shoulder and gestures to me.

“Tell him, what you told me.”

His eyes slide up to meet mine and they implode wide. “Mr—Mr Moon.” His eyes dart to my bloodied knuckles and he clears his throat harshly then motions to the monitors. “I discovered something. The books as we know are not singular entities but are interconnected by code. You need one to read the other. At the core of this intricate network of codes, there exists a 'master key,' a unique code integrated within the encryption of each book. This master key is essential; without it, the books are nothing more than cryptic tomes.”

“That’s why Torin was not there when we infiltrated, ” Ryo expounds. “The reason why Santos was arrogant is because he must already have the master key. The bearer needs to decode the master key within the first book to reveal the location of the second, and so forth, in a cascading sequence. I think Torin found the location of the master key and ran an opp to take it.”

“Do we have a lock?”

Ryo points across the room to a programmer with his own display of screens. He raises his hand knowingly and flags us over. “They have been virtually invisible because every online session is connected to a high-security VPN. This encrypts his internet traffic and masks his IP address, routing his connection through a secure server in a location of his choosing. This is high level, and I recognise the digital fingerprints—Calum Taylor. For however long Torin had him, he used their time together very well.

“Is there no way to intercept?” I ask.

He snaps his fingers at me. “Calum set up a chain of multiple proxies, proxies located in different countries. Each proxy server forwards his connection to the next, further obstructing his true IP address.” He nods a few times, visibly impressed. “The kid is good. But I’m better. This involves monitoring network traffic and pinpointing the sequence of proxy servers used. And I’m compromising each proxy server in the chain to access its logs.” He flicks a finger at the third screen. “After sequential log analysis: many proxies and VPNs use techniques to obfuscate logs. I’ve bypassed these obfuscation techniques.”

He spins around on his chair to face us fully. “Since the traffic is encrypted, I’ll just have to rely on metadata for correlation. And then comes a long-awaited bloody reunion. Because in due time, I’ll have his true IP address.”

“And that will lead us both to Torin,” Ryo adds, “and to Hadassah.”

***


The dimly lit tattoo parlor has walls ornate with intricate designs of dragons and demons. Ryo has a tapestry of tattoos that chronicles his rise through the ranks. Whereas my torso remains bare because I had nothing to prove to anyone. My first addition opposes an old philosophy. As the needle buzzes to life. The sharp sting, a familiar sensation that quickly becomes a dull ache. The pain is almost comforting, a reminder that this is real, that she is real.

The artist's hands move with practiced precision, each stroke deliberate and reverent. My mind wanders to her, the woman who made my soul and spirit beholden to her own—a bond—a celestial connection that transcends comprehension. Her laughter, her touch, the divinity that is her that embodies mortal form. She is my sanctuary, my solace and my salvation. The parlor's atmosphere grows heavy with the scent of ink and antiseptic. The only sign of discomfort is the occasional twitch of my brow. I can feel her name taking shape, the letters forming a covenant stronger than any oath I have ever sworn.

Finally, the buzzing ceases. The artist leans back, wiping away the excess ink to reveal the fresh tattoo. I rise from the chair to see the tattoo, her name etched onto the collar of my neck, a declaration for all to see to whom I belong, a silent proclamation to whom my life is avowed.