Taras felt like he's planting a tree.
Planted on the green mountains,
Planted in the clear waters,
Planted under the blue sky.
Planted in Arabella's tender, juicy pussy.
It was both thrilling and satisfying, yet still, not enough.
Yes, filling Arabella's body with his progeny like planting tree, so what?
Truly, words could not express it.
Thinking about it, Taras felt a sense of unstoppable momentum, which made Arabella chuckle and ask, "Why are you looking so lifeless?" The question was blunt, and Taras was equally direct. He rolled over naked, with his dick still pointing upwards, but tilted his head. He let out a long sigh and turned his head to ask, "Arabella, have you ever thought about the future?"
The question was sensitive. Arabella fell silent for a moment. Just when Taras thought she wouldn't answer, she spoke: "The future is death."
There was some truth to her words, for all must die eventually, though the manner of death differs. If one were to examine her words more closely, Arabella's "death" seemed to imply a kind of untimely, perhaps violent end.
Taras shifted his gaze, looking out into the deep-black night, eager to dig deeper into the subject. "Maybe there's a different outcome."
Arabella's expression remained unchanged. Her heart was as cold as iron; she never played those nostalgic games. She shot a glance at Taras, thinking that the boy must have lost his wits today. But even a foolish boy could be useful. So far, she and Taras had been in sync, whether in bed or out. Today, he was playing the emotional card, so she decided to indulge him and take the cue.
Arabella deepened her smile and reached out to touch Taras's forehead, which was covered in sweat. After seeming to think it over carefully, she spoke: "A different outcome won't come from just thinking about it. You have to fight for it, and even then, you might not get your wish." In fact, Arabella wasn't merely brushing him off. She was speaking the truth. People like them were called terrorists, and if you were a terrorist, your life's outcome wouldn't be good. Even if you wanted to survive, others would do everything in their power to ensure that your end was horrific.
Taras certainly understood the logic behind her words. But understanding such simple things didn't mean much to him. He hadn't come to discuss self-help clichés with Arabella; he was interested in deeper matters.
He lowered his voice, leaned in close to Arabella, and almost whispered into her ear, "Arabella, I want to be your backup."
Such a direct statement left no room for retreat. Arabella was somewhat surprised that Taras would speak so bluntly at this moment. But her mind was dark, her heart was dark, and her thoughts were filled with dark schemes. She would never extract anything pleasant from someone else's words; on the contrary, the more flattering their words were, the more sinister their meaning seemed to her.
Arabella remained calm, half-closing her eyes and smiling as she said, "I'm afraid your backup isn't very stable."
Taras didn't respond. He wasn't foolish. Whether Arabella's words reflected her true thoughts or not, the implication was clear—she thought little of him, believed he was incapable. A storm seemed to cloud over his head, and his expression darkened. He began to regret the words he had just spoken. Arabella, that woman, was too infuriating; she didn't deserve to be trusted. He had clearly been momentarily captivated by her lone, vulnerable appearance, and it was that fleeting moment that had led him to speak such foolishness.
"Right now, it's unstable, but it will be stable in the future. If you don't try, how would you know?" Taras held back, then finally, unable to endure it anymore, added one more sentence. He felt agitated and restless, unwilling to think about Arabella's fate. Her fate was too cruel, too complicated to be described in just a few words.
Arabella watched coldly, sensing the urgency in Taras's words. She understood it, yet she would never accept it. If the day ever came when she needed to rely on others to secure her own future, then death would be near.
The conversation naturally came to an end. Taras dressed, put on his pants, and left, gritting his teeth as he walked. He felt that Arabella was truly ungrateful. No matter how many kind words were spoken, it was like hitting a steel plate—she wouldn't break, and in the end, he would be the one shattered.
How could anyone spend their life with such a person?
The thought crossed his mind, and Taras's expression darkened. He almost wanted to slap himself. He had lost his mind—he had actually thought about spending a lifetime with such a woman.
*
Just as Taras left, a figure mysteriously appeared—it was Caracal. His name ranked among the top intelligence experts, and he wasn't just good at simple tricks. He excelled at tracking, hiding, and disguising himself. Generally, unless facing a top-tier expert, it was difficult for anyone to notice him when he concealed himself.
"Master Unknown—I arrived earlier, but seeing you were busy, I didn't make my presence known."
Arabella nodded. She had known that Caracal had arrived earlier, but there was nothing secret in her conversation with Taras—it was just the idle chatter of a man caught up in his dick. It wasn't worth mentioning, so she allowed him to remain hidden.
"How's the situation?"
Caracal stepped forward and whispered, "It's confirmed that the military's 'Blade' has already been deployed and is involved in this 'Tumor Plan.' However, we can't ascertain when exactly or what their identity is."
Upon hearing this, Arabella's gaze hardened. Her mind quickly ran through several suspicious individuals. This time, in order to show his sincerity, Nicholas had not only sent her the secret about the Cardew family siblings but also provided her with one piece of classified intelligence: 'Blade' had been involved in the 'Tumor Project' to eliminate her from the very beginning.
"Blade" was the codename of the individual in question, ranked third internationally. Unlike others on the public list, this person was not affiliated with any particular country. Instead, they had always been a hidden trump card within the international joint forces. Because of this, their identity was shrouded in secrecy, and they had never shown their true face to the world.
She had never directly clashed with 'Blade,' but the person had faced off with Julius, who was part of 'AE.' A few years ago, Julius was handling a major deal. That deal route was typically reliable, with both governments thriving off drug trafficking, and the drug trade went largely unregulated. But on one occasion, 'Blade' led an elite international force to assist the government of Viskomo in fighting rebel groups. The two forces collided at the border and fought for an entire day and night, with Julius losing that batch of drugs. The casualties on 'Blade's' side were minimal.
Nicholas had made it clear in his intelligence report. During that clash, 'AE' and 'Blade' fought, but the latter's skills were superior. The reason 'AE' ranked above 'Blade' was because 'Blade' had eliminated one of his intelligence officers and sent the body back as a warning. Nicholas couldn't swallow this humiliation, so there was a dispute only between the second and third rankings.
In reality, Arabella knew that Nicholas had held something back. 'Blade's' skills might be on par with hers. As for her being ranked first, Nicholas had likely added some personal bias to the ranking.
Arabella had always thought Nicholas was a bit off. His mind seemed to be playing tricks. No normal person would cry out "I love you" one moment and then fire artillery at him the next. And even after attacking, if someone knocked him down, he would crawl back and beg for mercy, as though his submission could only come through constant suppression. Arabella felt that the boy was on the brink of madness, but ironically, this demon was still useful to her, so she had to tolerate his twisted behavior and refrain from exposing his true nature.
Although she had her own channels for intelligence, for highly classified information like this, only Caracal could provide any reliable news. Now, Caracal's statement had clearly confirmed that Nicholas's intel was genuine. The question now was—she had 'Blade' by her side, practically a nuclear bomb with immense power.
"How is Raven doing?" Arabella asked, changing the subject to hide her agitation in front of Caracal.
"He's been training, shaping a group of good men." After the failed attempt at reporting last time, Caracal had learned his lesson. Until he had a fatal piece of evidence against Raven, he was giving full and honest reports. He was clear-minded and knew that in this situation, replacing Raven was impossible. Raven, originally a weapon, had now become an assistant, while he was merely a shadow. Did the shadow need to exist? Yes, but it wasn't essential, and it was replaceable.
"Let's go. Let's see Raven's results."
Inside the secret base, a group of desperadoes, having just completed their training, were gathered together in lively celebration, eating and drinking. There were a few tables of them—some shouting, others playing drinking games. A large screen hung above, displaying an R-rated film that stirred the men's blood, fueling their plans to sneak out later that night and bring back a few women to relieve their frustrations. Of course, after venting their desires, those women would have to be dealt with.
At the center of the table sat Raven, his hair clipped short, with sharp brows and starry eyes. His features were as chiseled as if carved from stone, broad-shouldered and strong, his posture upright and rigid. Holding a glass of wine in one hand, he drank silently, choosing not to participate in the chaotic revelry around him. Compared to the muscular, brawny men surrounding him, his expression remained calm, and his physique was not particularly striking. Yet, just by sitting there, an overwhelming aura of intense aggression radiated from him, a silent pressure that was hard to ignore.
"Sir, this one's for you—" A few loyal subordinates gathered around him, trying to curry favor.
Raven tapped his glass. With a swift motion, he downed the strong liquor, prompting cheers from the group. To them, Raven was an unstoppable god, worthy of their loyalty. Although there was supposedly someone above him, a famous figure known in both the underworld and legitimate circles, known as "Master Unknown," they had heard that Master Unknown was a woman and had never appeared in public. They also wondered if Raven's behavior was simply a part of his personal interests, putting his woman out in the open for all to see.
Just as things were getting lively, a guard came in with a message, saying that a young woman was outside, claiming to be looking for Raven.
At the mention of a woman, a group of men who had been deprived of women for too long couldn't help but eye her greedily, though they swallowed nervously, not daring to act too hastily. She was looking for Raven, perhaps one of his lovers. All eyes turned toward the center, where Raven seemed momentarily stunned. Then his gaze sharpened as he fixed his eyes on a certain corner of the room, his voice low and commanding, "Come out, Caracal."
Caracal appeared with a grin from the corner, startling the group of men at the table, who immediately reached for their guns in alarm. They hadn't noticed anyone had snuck in earlier. Caracal waved his hand and called out, "It's me, it's me." While he smiled on the surface, he couldn't help but admire Raven's skills. He usually monitored Raven but only when Raven was absent. Whenever Raven was present, Caracal knew that even being in such close proximity would give him away.
But Raven's gaze never shifted toward him; his thoughts were entirely focused on the door. Who else could it be but the girl Caracal had brought with him?
Without a word, Raven leapt to his feet and rushed out, leaving a group of men staring at each other in confusion. They hadn't expected that for a woman, Raven wouldn't just play around. Clearly, the girl outside held some weight in his heart.
