Villain's Last Chance Chapter 6: A Game of Ghosts

The night was thick with silence.

Livia's words hung between us, coiling in the cold air like a whisper of sothing too dangerous to na.

Soone powerful. Soone moving in the shadows. Soone who did not want this marriage to happen.

It should have been good news. It should have been an opportunity. If soone else wanted this engagent destroyed, then perhaps I could use them—manipulate the pieces on the board in my favor.

But instead, sothing about it made my blood run cold.

Because I did not know who it was.

And there was nothing more dangerous than an unknown enemy.

I t Livia's gaze, searching for deception. I found none.

"Tell everything," I said.

She hesitated, glancing toward the estate. "Not here."

I understood. The Valcrest household was filled with ears that did not belong to . Yet.

I nodded once and led her through the garden's winding path, moving toward the old stone archway that led to the secluded greenhouse. It was one of the few places in this estate where I was certain no one was listening.

The mont we were alone, I turned back to her. "Speak."

She inhaled sharply. "There are whispers of a group operating in the capital—one that has been pulling strings in the empire for years, undetected. They are powerful. Ruthless. And they have no allegiance to any noble house."

I frowned. "A secret faction?"

Livia nodded. "They call themselves the Revenants."

A cold laugh almost escaped . "Revenants?" I repeated. "Ghosts?"

It was fitting.

"They work from the shadows," Livia continued. "And they are not just spies or rcenaries. They are sothing more. They rewrite the board itself."

Sothing about that made the hairs on my arms rise.

Spies, assassins, informants—I had dealt with them all before. I had controlled them. Bent them to my will.

But this... this was different.

This was sothing I had never encountered before, even in my past life.

"And they are moving against this marriage?" I asked.

"Yes."

I considered this, my mind weaving through every possibility, every angle. "Why?"

Livia hesitated. Then, carefully, she said, "Because they know who you are."

My breath stilled.

For a long mont, I did not move.

The night stretched, the greenhouse's glass walls casting fragnted reflections of candlelight, as if dozens of versions of myself stood watching.

"They know," I echoed.

Livia nodded once. "Not everything. But they suspect. And if they confirm it..."

She didn't need to finish.

If they confird it, I would not survive this ti.

Not even Cairon Everhart had been my true enemy before. Not really.

But whoever the Revenants were—they could destroy before I even had a chance to fight.

The ga had just changed.

I took a slow breath, forcing my mind into sharp focus. Fear was useless. Panic was a weakness. I had three weeks before my wedding to Cairon.

And if the Revenants wanted dead before then, I needed to outmaneuver them first.

I turned to Livia. "Do they have a leader?"

"Yes. But no one knows who they are."

A shadow with no na. That would not do.

"Find out," I said. "And when you do, bring their na."

Livia hesitated. "That will not be easy."

I smiled—sharp, cold, ruthless. "It never is."

She studied for a mont. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"I will return soon," she said. Then, with practiced ease, she pulled her hood back over her face and disappeared into the night.

I was alone again.

I turned my gaze to the city beyond the estate walls. Sowhere out there, unseen hands were moving, shifting pieces I could not yet see.

But that would not last for long.

The Revenants thought I was a ghost of my past.

They had no idea that I was coming for them first.

The Next Morning,

I was summoned to the Everhart estate again.

A strange thing, for a man like Cairon. He was not the type to entertain a noblewoman twice in as many days, much less his betrothed.

Which ant sothing had changed.

I arrived at the estate dressed in midnight blue—a shade that did not call attention to itself, yet commanded authority in its quiet depth. The mont I entered, I felt it—a shift in the air, as though the entire household was wound tighter than the strings of a bow.

Sothing had happened.

Cairon was waiting in his study.

He sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, watching with the kind of sharp calculation that sent a thrill of challenge through my veins.

"You summoned , my lord?" I said smoothly.

His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it.

"Sit."

I did.

The silence stretched. Then, finally, he reached into his drawer and pulled sothing out—a dagger.

He placed it on the desk between us.

I did not move.

"Do you recognize this?" he asked.

I let my gaze drop to the blade. The blackened steel. The engraved sigil on the hilt.

My blood ran cold.

Because I did recognize it.

It was an assassin's dagger.

And not just any assassin's dagger.

It belonged to the Revenants.

I lifted my gaze back to Cairon's. He was watching too closely, as if waiting to see my reaction.

So I gave him nothing.

"A fine blade," I murmured. "Where did you find it?"

Cairon leaned back. "On the body of the man who tried to kill last night."

The words landed like a blade to my ribs.

The Revenants had made their first move.

But not against . Against him.

I schooled my features into sothing perfectly neutral. "An assassination attempt?"

Cairon humd. "Not just an attempt." He leaned forward. "A ssage."

Slowly, he turned the dagger, revealing sothing carved into the steel.

One word.

Betrayal.

I stared at it, my mind working faster than my pulse.

Betrayal.

The Revenants had not simply tried to kill Cairon. They were accusing him of sothing.

But why?

I looked back at him. "And you think this has sothing to do with ?"

His gaze did not waver. "I think," he said slowly, "that you know more than you're pretending."

A dangerous accusation. One that could get killed.

So I did what I did best.

I smiled.

"If I were planning to betray you, Lord Everhart," I said, tilting my head, "do you truly think I would be foolish enough to leave a ssage behind?"

Sothing flickered in his expression.

Then, to my surprise—he laughed.

Low. Dark. Amused.

"Perhaps not," he murmured. "But tell , Lady Valcrest." He picked up the dagger, twirling it lazily between his fingers. "Would you tell if you were?"

I leaned in, my voice a whisper of a smile.

"Would you believe if I said no?"

Silence.

Then, his smile sharpened. "No," he admitted. "I wouldn't."

A deadly ga had begun.

And neither of us intended to lose.