Ferdinand hadn't seen Arabella for almost three years, and seeing her again filled him with boundless excitement. But before he could exchange more than a few words with the one who made his heart flutter, she had already left, leaving him yearning.
Filled with grievance, Ferdinand bit his tongue and held back his emotions, refusing to let them show in front of Arabella. Three years in prison had worn away much of his arrogance, especially when it came to matters involving Arabella. Three years had been enough for him to ponder and devise a plan. There's a saying: "A good woman fears a persistent man." So what does a bad woman fear? Persistence, of course! What kind of person was Arabella? Plotting or outmaneuvering her was futile. It was far better to channel that effort into treating her well. Being kind to her, no matter how much, would never be enough. He planned to keep himself constantly in her life—dependable in public, indispensable in private, and an ideal companion in every sense. He refused to believe he couldn't win her over eventually.
While Ferdinand was busy strategizing for himself, Arabella had already dealt with the cop, Reginald. She bore no deep-seated grudge against him—it was merely a matter of opposing stances. With the duties of a police officer and such unwavering conviction to act fearlessly, she had no reason to pursue total annihilation. But sparing his life didn't mean letting him off lightly; trespassing on her territory back then was a mistake that would still cost him.
Arabella was in the middle of changing clothes. Moments earlier, she had infiltrated a young woman's house, used a hanger to pierce through her throat, and then casually searched for the woman's newly purchased clothes to change into. Calm and composed, she walked out the front door and vanished into the crowd.
Getting Merrick and retreating immediately—that was Arabella's prior instruction. Caracal glanced at the unconscious Merrick in the car, a trace of malice flashing in his eyes. This face was truly a curse. If he destroyed it, he wondered if it might end Arabella's obsession.
As his thoughts wandered, his hand moved of its own accord, fingers brushing against Merrick's carotid artery. Just then, the old-fashioned, offline communicator at his waist buzzed. The old-fashioned communication device that wasn't connected to any network was solely for contact with Arabella. Caracal immediately withdrew his hand, pulling out the device to check it. His expression changed instantly. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, realizing how close he had come to making a grave mistake. A chill swept over him, and cold sweat ran down his back.
Arabella's message was brief and straightforward: "Bring Merrick back to me unharmed. If anything happens to him, you die."
"Damn it. The dead one already had enough influence, and now there's this guy alive." Caracal grumbled under his breath, seething with frustration at the warning. He kicked the back of the driver's seat and sneered, "Step on it. We need to be out of here before sunrise."
With the target secured, they quickly evacuated Viskomo. However, when Ferdinand was inexplicably sent away, he neither saw Arabella nor the perpetually stern-faced Raven. Having just been released from prison, Ferdinand only had a vague understanding of the situation outside and couldn't fathom what Arabella was planning to do in Viskomo.
Outside, the rain poured down in torrents, and it looked like there would be a thunderstorm tonight. Ferdinand pondered for a moment before deciding to contact his subordinates. Although he had spent three years in prison, it hadn't affected his arms dealing. The weapons he produced were of high volume, top quality, and had a rapid delivery rate, earning him a solid reputation internationally. Many wanted him dead, but even more wanted him alive.
He had to regain his former strength quickly. If he was determined to cling to Arabella like a persistent shadow, he would need considerable power to avoid being mercilessly discarded by her. Even in this day and age, being a tenacious thorn required a certain level of stickiness.
Arabella and a small group, including Raven, were currently hiding near the border. Their target was to eliminate the ZK90 armored unit. Her promise to Jasper wasn't out of a desire to repay a favor—he wasn't worth that. Her main goal was to test the true capabilities of the ZK90s. These armored vehicles were Scalien's latest weapons, reputed for their long range and concentrated firepower, designed specifically to counter the K090 heavy machine guns Ferdinand had mass-produced. Their deployment at the border left no doubt—they were meant to defend against her.
It seemed Marcellus was determined to fortify Scalien and prevent her infiltration. That detestable brat was just as loathsome as ever, no different from his days of secretly spying on her and Cyrus. He thought he had hidden well enough to escape her notice, but that was underestimating her. If not for Cyrus's sake, she would have stripped the skin off his face long ago.
In the darkness, Arabella stared through her binoculars at the four armored vehicles in the distance, her gaze filled with a predatory and unrestrained killing intent. Her entire body was tense, like a beast ready to pounce. Raven was beside her, greedily taking in the rare sight of Arabella's true self. How long had it been since he last saw this? It seemed that since he had been bought, the only other times were during their flight to the Manos Swamp.
He loved every facet of Arabella, but most of all, he cherished the side of her that she only revealed to him—a face hidden from the outside world. Perhaps his gaze had become too intense, too heated, as he lost himself in thought. Arabella lowered her binoculars, turned to look at Raven, and noticed his trance-like state. She couldn't help but smirk, reaching out instinctively to pinch the back of his neck. Her beautiful eyes sparkled as she teased, "Caught staring at me again?"
Raven lowered his gaze and leaned slightly closer to Arabella, almost exposing the vulnerable nape of his neck entirely to her hands. Then, he answered honestly, "Yes."
Yes!
Just like he had seen glimpses of Arabella's true nature from time to time, in front of her, he wasn't the cold-faced devil of rumors. Beneath his tall and imposing exterior, he was always that rebellious boy trapped in a cage. The boy reached out his hand to the girl outside the bars, as if offering her his very soul.
He nearly buried his head in Arabella's shoulder. In the quiet of the night, he finally had the chance to be alone with her and speak his mind. "Master Unknown, actually, some time ago I—"
"I know," Arabella interrupted, her hand shifting to stroke the back of Raven's head. His hair was coarse, just like its owner—stubborn and sensitive, reminiscent of the first time they met in their youth. Raven was taken aback upon hearing her reply. He lifted his head to look at her, and an indescribable bitterness rose in his heart. He had thought love was uncontrollable, that loyalty in love was an elusive ideal, that the tumult of emotions was everything. But to Arabella, it was merely a matter of betrayal or not betraying. Yet, despite this taste more bitter than any medicine, ripples still formed in his heart.
After a moment of silent eye contact, Arabella withdrew her gaze and said softly, "Later, I'll have something for you to handle. Once it's done, come with me."
Raven's eyes sparkled, and his vision blurred slightly with heat. He didn't know what was burning inside his chest at this moment. Rescued by her as a youth, he had thought he would simply repay her with his life, serving her without ambition or desires. Power and status were insignificant to him—offering his life to her didn't matter. But he loved her, truly loved her—he only wished to stay alive so he could stay by her side. He nodded solemnly, fully understanding what Arabella meant. He didn't expect her iron heart to comprehend emotions, nor did he hope for her to promise a lifetime of exclusive devotion. But Arabella, though unfeeling, was true to her word. Her willingness to let him follow her meant a lifelong commitment.
Raven finally spoke, his voice carrying a fiery intensity. "Master Unknown, I am willing to stay with you until old age." Amused by his earnest expression, Arabella's lips curved slightly in rare humor as she scolded playfully, "Naughty guy, I'm not old yet, and I don't need you to take care of me in my old age."
After finishing their discussion, Raven focused on the task at hand. He couldn't figure out how they could take down those new armored vehicles with their current equipment. While not as indestructible as tanks, these vehicles were heavily fortified and hard to attack. Even heavy machine guns couldn't pierce their defenses, making them formidable obstacles.
"Master Unknown, those things are not easy to deal with. Ordinary explosives are completely ineffective against them," Raven remarked.
Arabella nodded and replied softly, "I just want to test their strength. Since it's not wartime, they rotate shifts. When the next shift comes in, I'll take them out before they enter and seize control."
"But once you act, no matter how fast you are, the other guards in the camp will still notice the four armored vehicles," Raven cautioned.
"You'll lead a team to draw their fire," Arabella instructed.
Raven immediately understood Arabella's intent. He nodded, casting a glance at the dozen or so subordinates ambushed not far behind. He felt no emotion—aside from Arabella, the lives and deaths of others were never something he cared about.
Arabella had been secretly observing the camp for two days and nights, studying its layout and shift rotations. She climbed swiftly into the dense trees and, like a ghost, silently approached the camp, waiting for the guard change.
The four groups for the late-night shift appeared right on schedule. The soldiers stationed inside the armored vehicle opened the door to prepare for the change of guard, only to see a dark figure descend swiftly upon them. In a flash, before they could even react, they felt a sharp pain in their necks, and the next second, their lives were extinguished. Before the soldiers in the nearby armored vehicle could make sense of the situation, the shadow leapt again. Moving with the agility of a panther, it struck, targeting their throats. A faint sound of bones cracking followed, and the two collapsed to the ground. The shadow didn't pause for even half a second. Without moving, its hands flicked forward, sending two streaks of silver through the air. The soldiers changing shifts at the rear armored vehicle let out muffled grunts as the flying daggers embedded themselves squarely in their foreheads.
The commotion was immense. The camp's night guards hadn't even managed to sound the alarm before an explosion erupted from one side of the camp, followed by a relentless barrage of gunfire. The camp was instantly ablaze with lights, as soldiers, weapons in hand, swarmed out like a hive. Amid the explosion, the dark figure descended again with astonishing speed, leaping onto the last armored vehicle. With one hand, he grabbed the soldier who was about to scramble into the vehicle, slamming him headfirst into the windshield. The impact was terrifying, deforming the soldier's entire head. Another soldier, his face frozen in fear, felt a sudden coldness at his neck, and blood spurted out in a gushing arc.
Arabella indifferently kicked aside the deformed-headed soldier's corpse, climbed into the vehicle, and shut the door. Ignoring the soldier nearby writhing and clutching his bleeding neck, she grabbed the controls and aimed a shell directly at the armored vehicle ahead.
