Chapter 41

Earn’s POV

“Well?” Duke Christian’s voice cut through the evening air. He leaned against the balcony railing, the wind stirring the hem of his coat.

“Did you properly complete your task?”

I kept my posture straight, hands clasped neatly behind my back. My breathing remained even.

“If you mean guarding the lady, then I think so, yes,” I replied.

“And your… ‘other’ task?” His gaze sharpened. It always did when he asked questions that carried weight.

I went quiet.

Tungsten rose in my mind—the dust, the noise of reconstruction, the long days spent walking at Lady Miu’s side. And then, one particular moment surfaced.

The blueprints. She had told Ollie she could read them.

And she did.

Not only read—understand. She pointed out structural oversights. She suggested improvements with calm precision.

A runaway noblewoman from a small town who had lived as an escort for a decade would not have learned such things.

Which means… She lied to us.

A soft chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. Absurd. Suspicious. Logical.

And yet—

Despite that conclusion, despite the neat alignment of doubt and evidence… I want to trust her.

Even if her past is fabricated, her dedication to the people is not. The way her voice steadies when speaking of rebuilding. The way her eyes soften at the mention of the Queen. The tears she shed for my fallen family members—

Those were not rehearsed.

They were real.

So, Lady Miu…

“Nothing in particular happened, Sir,” I finally answered, lifting my chin slightly. “The lady is wise, kind, and gentle. She is an amazing person. There was nothing suspicious while I accompanied her.”

The wind brushed against my face as I stood before my Duke.

I will be loyal to you, I will serve you and I will wield my weapons to protect you, my lady.

“I swear.”

—

Third Person’s POV

“Earn said that?”

Jayden turned sharply toward Christian as the Duke finished recounting the report.

“Yes.” Christian’s jaw tightened, arms crossing over his chest. “I wouldn’t think much of it if it had been one of the twins—or even the other knights. But Earn…”

His gaze darkened. “She’s not one to swear an oath that easily.”

Silence stretched between them.

The Duke exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with thought. “Perhaps… because she knows what the lady had gone through.”

“I wonder…” Jayden’s eyes drifted toward the far distance, unfocused. “Chris isn’t the type to judge someone for their origins. But she would absolutely despise her if she thought the lady was useless—or exploiting her new status.”

He sighed this time, turning back to Christian. “And he’s not someone who would betray those he’s sworn an oath to as a knight.”

The weight of that truth lingered.

“For now,” Jayden continued, his tone shifting into something more resolute, “we focus on the hunt tonight. We’ll keep watching the lady in the coming days.”

With that, he pulled out his gun and inspected it with practiced precision. He cleaned and checked his weapons every morning without fail—but examining it again before a hunt always steadied him.

He ran his thumb along the barrel, ensuring every mechanism responded flawlessly.

Making sure that nothing would go wrong when the time came to draw it.

—

“Make sure the runners move in groups of at least five.”

Lena’s voice carried across the courtyard as she stood before her knights. Though dressed in casual attire meant to blend among the crowds, nothing about their posture was relaxed.

“Remember,” she continued, her gaze sweeping across their determined faces, “the hunt must be merciless. Imprint on the prey immediately.”

Not a single knight faltered under her stare.

“The moment you distinguish anyone suspicious, make your move. We have only one goal today—” She paused, jaw tightening as tension coiled in her expression. “To send a clear message.”

Lena lifted her chin, resolve hardening her features.

“Let this be the last time anyone thinks Tungsten can be plundered!”

“Yes! Your Highness!” The knights and guards roared in unison, their voices echoing against the palace walls.

A slow smirk curved along Lena’s lips, anticipation glinting in her eyes as thoughts of what the night might bring stirred her blood.

“Well…” she said, turning sharply on her heel. “Then let’s go hunt.”

—

That night, Tungsten felt like a predator waiting in the dark.

Marcus Valeen sat in the back of his car, the engine idling softly in a narrow, deserted alley. The streetlights outside barely reached him, casting thin, flickering shadows across his face.

He had come as soon as he heard Lady Miu was in the city, but by the time he arrived, she was already gone.

Adrian, behind the wheel, kept checking the rearview mirror, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

“Sir,” he said quietly, voice tense. “Our men reported something unusual. There’s a group patrolling the city. Armed. They’ve been circling the outer districts since early this evening.”

Marcus tilted his head as if the information were amusing.

“Are you suggesting I, Marcus Valeen, flee?” His voice was calm, deliberate, carrying that chill arrogance that made people hesitate before contradicting him.

Adrian hesitated. The alley felt narrower with every heartbeat. “Sir, we should leave before they find us.”

“My men are acquiring new… assets. If these patrols are out hunting, who do you think they’ll aim their guns at? Me—a Duke’s son? Or the rabble running the streets?” Marcus leaned back, smoothing his cuff.

“And even if they find us, what are they going to do—”

*SMASH*

The window beside Marcus exploded.

Shards of glass sprayed into the car. He jerked away, flinching.

A bullet had grazed his cheek.

An inch more, and it would have gone straight through his brain.

“Found you.” Piolo’s voice was low, almost a hiss. His sniper rested steadily on his shoulder, barrel trained on the spot where the bullet had just hit.

He clicked the magazine in, reloading with casual precision. “So they were holed up over there. How’d you know, Your Highness?”

He turned slightly, glancing at the Queen standing beside him.

“Had a hunch,” Lena muttered, her voice flat and emotionless. Even her own men froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by her calm.

Inside the car, Marcus Valeen sat frozen. Hands trembling, he dragged a finger along his cheek. The warm, sticky smear of blood sent a shiver down his spine. Cold sweat rolled down his neck.

“What are you waiting for…” His voice cracked, barely audible.

“Get me the hell out of here!” he barked, finally snapping.

Adrian’s hands were already on the wheel. Without a word, he slammed the engine to life.

“Is that… Marcus? The one sitting in the back seat?” Lena’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as she lifted her binoculars to get a closer look.

“Yes, it appears so,” Jayden replied, scanning the streets through his own scope.

A smirk tugged at Lena’s lips.

“Would you like to take him in as a prisoner, or… should we kill him?” Jayden asked, his tone flat, almost casual.

“Send him back alive.” Lena handed her binoculars to one of the knights and turned away, her expression unreadable.

Jayden frowned. “Will that be alright?”

Lena’s head tilted just enough for him to see her side profile, sharp and composed. “Of course. Today is only meant to serve as a warning. We’ve already captured some of his roaming men at the edge of Tungsten. They’ll understand our message better if we send a little gift along the way.”

She turned her gaze to the car, now speeding down the main street.

“Very well, Your Highness,” Jayden said, bowing quickly.

“Piolo, you’re up.” Lena ignored the unfolding chaos and began walking away, already detached from the next moments.

“Yes, Your Highness!” Piolo answered, shouldering his sniper with methodical calm.

He leaned against the tree, planting his body firmly, eyes narrowing as he adjusted his aim. The car moved clumsily on the main street, tires squealing against asphalt.

Piolo’s focus sharpened. He calculated every factor—distance, wind, the angle of the car’s movement. Then, in a single fluid motion, he squeezed the trigger.

The silencer swallowed the shot, leaving only a faint whoosh in the air.

The bullet hit its mark.

“AAGGHH!” Marcus screamed as the projectile tore through his back.

“SIR MARCUS!”

Adrian’s yell cut through the chaos as he slammed the accelerator.

“SHUT YOUR F*CKING MOUTH! DO NOT SPEAK MY NAME!” Marcus roared, his voice ragged, teeth gritted against the pain burning through his back.

The car had softened the bullet’s impact, but only slightly. Every nerve in his body screamed, his muscles spasming against the shock.

“DO NOT LET THEM HEAR WHO I AM!” His voice cracked again, lips paling, trembling with more than just agony.

Marcus curled into the seat, clutching anything he could—armrests, seatbelt, the leather itself—anything to anchor himself against the pain.

But it wasn’t just pain. Humiliation seared through him hotter than the wound ever could.

Lena! I will tear you to shreds!

He swore silently. The thought alone set fire to his veins. Teeth gritting, chest heaving. Rage and agony tangled together, driving him to fight the darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.

Somehow, through the haze, his hand grabbed the envelope wedged beneath him. Every movement felt like lifting a mountain, but he clenched it, gritting his teeth.

With the last shred of strength he could summon, he flung it out the window.

The envelope spun into the night, carried away by the wind