Chapter 262
This woman never ceased to amaze him.
But what was she doing inside the Blackthorn Syndicate’s headquarters?
After clearing several obstacles, Isabella Montgomery finally reached the main compound.
High walls surrounded the base, with patrol dogs circling nearby.
A faint, knowing smile touched her crimson lips.
She tossed a small medicinal pellet into the air.
The hounds collapsed almost instantly, sound asleep.
Her agile form scaled the tall fence with practiced ease.
She dropped silently into a wide, five-thousand-square-foot training yard.
To the public, the Blackthorn Syndicate posed as a martial arts academy.
Only a select few knew the truth—membership required insider connections.
Trainees who proved worthy were eventually absorbed into the syndicate’s inner circle.
Armed guards were posted every hundred meters throughout the manor.
Yet Isabella moved like a shadow, slipping past them undetected.
As she crossed a moonlit courtyard, her foot caught on a loose ceramic pot.
It tipped and shattered loudly against the cobblestones.
She reacted instantly, leaping onto a thick tree branch and melting into the shadows.
A man sat beside an ornamental pond, dressed in deep burgundy silk pajamas.
One knee was bent; the other dipped lazily into the water.
His robe hung open, loosely tied, revealing pale skin that glowed under the moonlight.
He looked like something from a Gothic novel—elegant and dangerous.
Isabella’s brow furrowed.
According to Maxwell’s intel, this was Sebastian Blackwood, patriarch of the syndicate.
Photographs hadn’t done him justice.
He was strikingly handsome, almost unnervingly so.
How could a man be more captivating than most women?
He didn’t look older than thirty, yet he commanded one of the most powerful underground organizations…?
Sebastian reclined against a smooth stone, drinking straight from a bottle of wine.
A stream of dark liquid poured into his mouth.
Some of it escaped, tracing a path down his jaw, over his throat, and across his chest.
The image was raw and indecently alluring.
Isabella released a quiet breath.
At least he was only drinking.
She dropped silently from the tree and continued her mission.
Nathaniel Blackwood watched from a nearby oak, concealed by dense foliage.
He’d seen the way Isabella stared at Sebastian.
A hot, possessive displeasure coiled in his chest.
She had looked at that man for over five minutes.
Was this her type?
But now wasn’t the time for jealousy.
His priority was keeping her safe.
The Blackthorn Syndicate was ruthless.
There were at least a hundred armed men on the premises.
How could she be so reckless?
He followed her silently, staying just far enough to avoid detection.
To his shock, she’d already broken into the syndicate’s secure records room.
The door required triple-layer biometric authentication—fingerprint, facial recognition, and retinal scan.
Even his best company hacker would need half an hour to bypass it.
And even then, an alarm was almost inevitable.
Yet she’d done it in under a minute.
Without triggering a single alert.
Before he could process what he’d seen, she emerged with a thick ledger in hand.
She scanned the area quickly, then slipped away into the darkness.
Nathaniel’s eyes darkened.
She’d risked everything tonight just to steal a ledger?
Why did she need the Blackthorn Syndicate’s records?
The question burned in his mind.
He retreated swiftly, returning to the estate before she did.
He slid back into bed just moments before she re-entered the room.
Isabella paused inside the doorway, listening.
Both Nathaniel and Oliver were still asleep.
Relief washed over her.
She hadn’t been discovered.
She shed her dark clothing, then carried the ledger into the ensuite bathroom.
Inside were transaction records from five years earlier—the syndicate’s complete order history.
If she could find entries from around July of that year, she might identify the man Victoria had hired.
The man who’d ruined her.
And when she found him, she would make him pay.
Page by page, she began her search.