More than a week had passed in the blink of an eye. Eleanor’s life had returned to a peaceful rhythm. There was no disturbance in her businesses, and everything seed calm on the surface. Freya was now fully adjusted to school life and had even made several friends among her classmates. The once-lonely child had begun to blossom, and Eleanor’s heart felt light seeing her thrive.
That day was a public holiday, and Eleanor brought Freya to the Raynor Estate, planning to leave her there for a few days. Freya was more than happy to stay with her Grandma and Grandpa, especially with Fiona around to play with. Although Eleanor initially intended to request leave for Freya from school, Ethan volunteered to handle the school duties from the estate.
While Freya and Selene played outside in the garden, Fiona finally voiced the question that had been on her mind all morning.
"Why are you going to Russia?" she asked, her tone calm but laced with concern.
Eleanor, seated at the table with a cup of herbal tea in hand, replied, "On the surface, it’s a business trip. I’m supposed to be negotiating with two companies based in Zelenograd. But in truth, I’ll be investigating the recent assassination attempts."
Fiona frowned. "Attempts? When did the second attack happen?"
"A few days ago," Eleanor said casually, as if it were no more than a passing inconvenience. "The assassins were neutralized by the shadow guards before they even realized what was happening. That’s why you didn’t hear about it."
Fiona’s concern deepened. "Are you sure these attackers ca from Russia?"
"No, not directly. They were from different countries," Eleanor explained. "But the platform that organized these assassins... the main server... is located in Russia. The assassins themselves are just pawns. They co, we kill them, and the cycle repeats. It’s annoying, but manageable. If I can eliminate the organization that’s orchestrating all this, then the problem can be solved at its root."
"Russia is not an easy place to operate," Fiona warned, a note of caution in her voice. "Where exactly are you headed this ti?"
"I’ll be based in Zelenograd. The factories I’m scheduled to visit are located there. But my real target is a place called Durykino. It’s less than three hours on foot from Zelenograd, or under half an hour by car."
Fiona leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly. "Zelenograd may seem peaceful on the surface... it’s mostly urbanized and dominated by humans, but don’t be fooled. Russia is ho to many supernatural factions, especially vampires. Several ancient vampire noble families reside in the Greater Caucasus region. Do not, under any circumstances, engage with them unless absolutely necessary. Vampires still harbour deep resentnt toward werewolves... not just because of the historical wars, but because of our ability to walk under the sun. It’s sothing they envy."
Eleanor nodded solemnly. "Understood."
Fiona continued, "If you do encounter any vampires, your first question should be to ask their family na. Then call imdiately. I’ll try to contact their higher-ups. Vampires are very political. There’s a lot of internal conflict within their kind. Every step must be taken cautiously."
"Okay, Grandma," Eleanor said, her voice soft. "I’ll rember."
After discussing a few matters related to current affairs and business transitions, Eleanor bid farewell to Fiona, Adrian, Selene, and Freya. Her car drove directly to the airport, where her private jet was waiting. Her shadow guards and her temporary secretary, Cassandra Blanc, had already boarded.
After nearly four hours of smooth flight, Eleanor’s Gulfstream G650 descended gracefully through a blanket of overcast skies and landed on the glass-smooth runway of Sheretyevo International Airport, Moscow’s sprawling gateway to the world.
She descended the jet’s tallic staircase, her boots clicking softly on the last step, as the late afternoon light cast a warm, honeyed glow across the sleek tarmac. The air was different... crisper, colder, and tinged with the scent of fuel and distant snow. It was the kind of cold that kissed your skin and reminded you where you were. This was Russia.
The runway stretched behind her like a grey ribbon of ambition, frad by silent radar towers and vast hangars that lood like steel titans against the horizon.
Sheretyevo had a surreal stillness to it... a strange limbo where sky t earth, where silence humd louder than words. Inside the terminal, Eleanor glimpsed the interior through a crystalline glass wall: chandeliers swaying gently from the high ceiling, polished marble floors gleaming like mirrors, and a sea of travellers moving like clockwork.
She paused for a brief mont to absorb the setting. There was elegance here... cold and calculated, but undeniably beautiful. The kind of beauty born from order and efficiency. The terminal felt less like a building and more like a monunt to global transit, where cultures collided briefly before flying apart again.
Luxury boutiques lined the halls like gemstones inset in steel. The scent of roasted coffee mingled with winter perfu. Outside, light snowflakes fell lazily, dusting the edges of the runway like powdered sugar. Aircraft, hulking beasts of tal, stood waiting... ready to rise once more into the clouds.
At the arrivals gate, a tall man dressed in a tailored charcoal-grey suit stood with perfect posture, holding a placard with the na "Miss Cassandra Blanc" written in elegant serif lettering. The discreet crest of Benedict Hotel & SPA was embroidered on his breast pocket.
As soon as Cassandra erged from the terminal, the hotel representative stepped forward with a courteous bow and a polished smile.
"Good afternoon, Miss Blanc," he said in lightly accented but fluent English. "Welco to Russia. It is our honour to receive you. I trust your flight was pleasant."
With smooth efficiency, he offered to carry her small bag and gestured toward a waiting vehicle... a sleek black rcedes S-Class with dark-tinted windows and a scent of new leather.
Unfortunately, no five-star hotel could be found within Zelenograd area. The best available option was Benedict Hotel & SPA, a local four-star luxury establishnt nestled in the town’s quieter district. Since the hotel lacked a Presidential Suite, Cassandra had reserved the entire top floor to ensure privacy and security.
It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach the hotel. As Eleanor stepped out of the car, the soft evening light illuminated the elegant silhouette of the building. Tall, arched windows reflected the golden hue of streetlamps. The cream-toned façade gave the structure a noble presence against the gathering dusk.
The hotel’s Luxe Suites featured king-sized beds, a private living area, and tasteful furnishings. Eleanor chose the suite at the center of the top floor and assigned the room beside hers to Cassandra.
Once inside her room, Eleanor didn’t waste a second. She kicked off her boots and sat on the plush sofa. Pulling out her encrypted tablet, she imdiately hacked into the hotel’s security system. As expected, it was outdated... relying on local, unencrypted feeds with no real-ti surveillance monitoring.
After confirming that no third party could access the hotel’s cara footage, she sent a ssage to her shadow guards, instructing them to begin a sweep of the premises.
She needed to know exactly who was staying in the hotel.
Russia was a complicated chessboard, and Eleanor had no intention of making a move without knowing where the other pieces stood.
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