Half a month ago, the Viskomo government unexpectedly received news that the Night Owl organization was probing into updated maps of their city's underground sewer system. The news seemed rather baffling because the Night Owl intelligence organization had always been both enigmatic and omnipresent. Their silent yet comprehensive ability to gather intelligence from all over the world had made them a desirable partner for both legitimate and underground entities worldwide. Fortunately, Night Owl maintained a neutral stance, judging potential clients only by the appeal of their offers. They focused solely on buying and selling intelligence, remaining indifferent to allegiances. Over the years, their business had flourished. Adding to their mystique, rumors circulated that the largest black market in Spanka was organized by Night Owl's mysterious leader to facilitate the flow of intelligence.
For an organization as illustrious as Night Owl, obtaining an updated map of a sewer system should have been a trivial task, one unlikely to draw any attention from outsiders. It was merely a coincidence that a murder case occurred around the same time. A city official responsible for municipal affairs, along with his family of three, had gone on a trip only to encounter robbers. The assailants not only robbed them but also killed the entire family to silence them. Where the bodies were dumped remains a mystery, as not a trace of them has been found to this day.
The Viskomo government found this series of coincidences perplexing and bewildering, unable to discern Night Owl's true intentions. Updating a city's infrastructure was hardly a major affair. Such information could be easily acquired by anyone interested, making the involvement of an organization like Night Owl seem unnecessary. Killing for such minor intelligence? It felt like a blatant disregard for the Viskomo government. As a military-run state enforcing strict militarized policies, such behavior was seen as a direct provocation. Night Owl's audacity led the Viskomo government to launch a nationwide manhunt for Night Owl agents, aiming to expel them from the country as a clear political warning.
Nicholas read the confidential report from his subordinates and sighed helplessly. He had been completely used as a pawn by Arabella. Her diversionary tactics had cost him half of the intelligence network he had painstakingly built within Viskomo. This was clearly her using the government as a tool, a subtle act of revenge for his previous collaboration with Julius in the attempt to encircle and eliminate her. The problem was, even knowing it was a trap, he willingly walked into it. If there was a prize for self-destructive behavior, he would undoubtedly win it.
Arabella had vanished without a trace.
In a sparsely populated place like Jingle, Arabella's already low-key nature made her as untraceable as a drop of water in the desert. In reality, she had been holed up in a factory within the industrial zone. Under intense training, the previously disorganized band of outlaws had gradually become a disciplined force, significantly improving their combat and counter-surveillance abilities. Of course, Arabella wouldn't train them herself. She would simply sit on the high balcony, eating and drinking leisurely, watching the group spar in the empty factory yard.
Despite her indulgent lifestyle over the past two weeks, Arabella remained trim, her waist slender, with taut, well-defined muscles beneath her skin. Her figure traced down to a shapely behind. Her skin, perpetually fair and smooth, appeared flawless even up close. Yet despite her fair complexion, she could hardly be called beautiful. From afar, she might resemble a porcelain doll, but one utterly devoid of aesthetic appeal.
Raven couldn't tell if it was his imagination, but he felt that Arabella's attitude toward him had shifted recently. He couldn't pinpoint the change. On the surface, Arabella's demeanor seemed perfectly human, but her actions betrayed a primal nature. Understanding her required trusting one's instincts. After years by her side, he had learned to hone this indescribable intuition to some degree.
It's like right now he pulled up Arabella's pants all the way, pushed her down on the dining table, and unzipped his own pants, revealing a particularly hard and large dick due to his uncontrollable desire. Arabella's lower body was wide open, and she was half-pressed against the table as she felt Raven's hand groping her fair and toned butt. His hips rocked back and forth, and his erect penis thrust straight up, penetrating her completely to the root. Arabella was an enigma, her depth unfathomable, and her vagina seemed like a bottomless pit. With a rush of hot blood pumping through his veins, Raven grabbed the ass firmly and started swinging it back and forth, with his penis serving as a connecting pin. His body rocked back and forth in intense pleasure, while his soul seemed to merge with the other person's in that instant.
Raven held his breath, feeling a sense of exhilaration that made him tilt his head back. By Arabella's side, he felt utterly defenseless, his mind spinning in a haze. Each thrust seemed to strike directly at the depths of her hidden core. With each thrust, as if trying to hit Arabella's heart. A rush of blood surged to his face, and sweat trickled down his forehead. Arabella lay softly beneath him, with her upper body on the table, her breasts squished into a tight mass, looking like two snowy, fluffy cloud from a distance. Made Raven let go that round ass and turn to grab his hands on Arabella's breasts, squeezing and fondling them, feeling the heat of Arabella's skin, so real that it was utterly intoxicating, making him crave more. He wished he could crush Arabella, break her apart, and embed her deep within himself.
They weren't satisfied with just one sex, so they changed the location and headed straight for the bathroom, where Raven's muscular frame glistened under the spray of water, the droplets highlighting his physique. The moisture seemed like an invisible brush, tracing the contours of his perfectly sculpted, powerful body. Arabella looked into his eyes and initiated a caress on the enticing chest and abdominal muscles. She stood on one leg while the other leg was wrapped around Raven's waist, and the open pussy gently sucked in the hot, hard, iron-like erection.
Both let out soft sighs of satisfaction as Raven held Arabella tightly in his arms. From their stark difference in physique alone, it was as if a delicate, innocent rabbit had fallen into the clutches of a wild wolf. The entire bathroom was steeped in an overwhelming aura of raw, predatory masculinity. Knowing Arabella could handle it, he lifted her up and held her firmly, with her fair, slender legs wrapped around his waist, which made his penis even deeper inside and allowed him to fxxck even harder.
Arabella was not afraid of being drained dry, and Raven unleashed his intense desire with reckless abandon, his sagging sac bouncing back and forth with each thrust. His penis deep inside her, as if the depth was so great that it could even pull out her intestines. Raven took a slight breath and buried his head in Arabella's neck, his hot breath seeming to bake the delicate skin red.
Raven felt as if he had been transported back to the cage of his youth, a place where human lives were traded like commodities. The cold wind seeped in from all sides, carrying an unrelenting sense of desolation. He was trapped inside the cage, while Arabella stood outside. Their eyes met across the divide, and in that moment, it felt as though the vast world around them had been emptied of all humanity, leaving only the two of them. Raven could no longer hold back and leaned down, capturing Arabella's lips in a forceful yet reverent kiss. Their tongues intertwined, a fervent dance that seemed to shatter the cage of the past. In that moment, it felt as though Arabella had stepped into the depths of his heart. She was in his arms now, and the memories of pain and confinement faded like whispers on the wind, like fleeting dreams. The only thing that remained real, unshakably so, was the fact that he was here, with her, by her side.
At climax moment, Raven thought to himself that from the very first glance at Arabella, he had already abandoned all defenses, lost completely. What was the point of once imagining betrayal or separation? How could he ever leave Arabella? Bowing his head into the crook of her neck, the towering Raven revealed a rare vulnerability: "Arabella, I truly can't live without you."
He never expected the cold-hearted Arabella to respond to him, but to his surprise, after a brief moment, Arabella smiled faintly and replied softly, "Yes, I know." Raven couldn't help but pull Arabella tightly into his embrace, swallowing the ache in his heart. He had always believed his heart was as hard as iron, but even iron, eventually, had a moment when the heat of the flesh could soften it.
Arabella instructed Raven to handle a critical task. Through the hands of the Viskomo government, she eradicated Nicholas's intelligence network in that region. Naturally, her purpose wasn't petty revenge. Arabella was a person who repaid every slight tenfold. As for Nicholas and Julius, if she ever struck, it wouldn't be for small skirmishes—it would be to eliminate them both outright.
She deliberately revealed a false trail to Nicholas, allowing him to misjudge her intentions so that she could carry out her rescue unimpeded. The person she planned to rescue—of course, wasn't Ferdinand. That guy was merely incidental. Who knows what kind of tantrum he was throwing? Despite having the means to escape, he stubbornly stayed in prison.
Mass production of weapons couldn't proceed without that military prodigy, Ferdinand. From time to time, Arabella would recall the sight of him charging toward a tank without hesitation, and a ripple of amusement would flash through her eyes. Since she planned to go to Viskomo personally, it was the perfect opportunity to placate that sulking man.
Late at night, Arabella curled up alone in a corner of her room, meticulously planning everything. After rescuing people from Viskomo, her next destination was Scalien. As this thought crossed her mind, her expression grew colder. Since Marcellus clung so obsessively to Cyrus's corpse—gripping it so tightly his bones shattered, so tightly he coughed up blood—she would ensure he learned the true meaning of holding on until a nation was reduced to ruin and ashes.
