Chapter 125. Circle teases

Chapter 125. Circle teases
The moment Vera stepped into the Grand Ballroom that evening, flashbulls and a wave of whisper followed him like a shadow. Wind flicked with perfumes, wealth and mysteries. It was considered a charity gala in his honor - his first public presence since Juliet's threat - but every instinct in his body shouted that the danger was close.
She smiled for the cameras anyway. The smile of a woman who learned to hide her wounds behind the diamond. Her red gown hugs her body, the clothes flowing like a liquid flame, attracting the attention of the room. Still under that beauty, she took a pistol in a silk clutch to her side and a heart that was not fast since she left the house.
"Mrs. Hale," said a voice from behind him. It was Marco, the new head of his safety - one of the men whom she used to work with personally. "Everything is safe. There is no sign of Juliet people."
"Well," he quietly said, scanning the crowd. "But don't rest. Not tonight."
The chandelier shone against her eyes as she used to walk towards the stage. Raymond looked at him from the corner, worrying about his crutches, pride and worry on his face. She was still not completely cured, and she hated to leave her, but this incident was necessary - to prove that she was not afraid, she was still under control to show the world.
The sound of the announcer filled the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Vera Hale -D Hart of the Hell Foundation!"
Applause erupted. She went on stage with her chin, who was speaking on the microphone with a calm confidence. "Thanks to all of you for coming here. Tonight is not just about charity. It's about hope. It's about proving that even after everything - mix, betrayal, destruction - we can get up again."
His words shifted the crowd. Some smiled warmly, others exchanged a careful look. He looked at Thomas in the back - the man he once trusted the most. He stood near Juliet's known colleague, the old lawyers who served Francis. His presence twisted his stomach.

After the speech, the music filled the room. The couples danced. Champagne glasses were cleared. Raymond joined him for a brief moment, his hand was a protective rest on him. "You are incredible," he whispers. "Even when everything around you becomes different."
He turned to him, lowering his voice. "You should not come. You are still recovering." He said, "I can't let you go alone."
He looked in his eyes - the stable eyes that had seen him through madness and fire - and his walls became waves. "Then don't leave my side."
"I don't win."
Two hours passed. The ballroom shone with laughter and lies. Marco and other guards kept walking like a silent shade through the crowd. Nevertheless, Vera could not realize that something was wrong. The same song kept playing again, a piece of piano that he did not recognize, and he saw one of his guards whispering from another, eyes moving towards the balcony.
He forgave himself from a conversation and slipped towards the back. The wind coolers were cool there. A soft click sound echoed from the hallway - a sound very deliberately for being very random.
She froze. "Who is there?"
No answer. Only an unconscious attack of electricity. She reached her clutch, brushing her fingers with the pistol.
Marco suddenly appeared behind him, smiling and smiling. "This is fine, Mrs. Hale. Just checking the exit."
His heartbeat slowed down a bit. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, mam. We are under complete control."
But in his voice, some made him uncomfortable. Very calm. Very measured.
When she returned to the Ballroom, she paid attention to two new faces between her guards - men did not rent her. His hand was tightened again around his clutch.
Raymond caught his eyes and drowned. He started moving towards him, but before he could reach him, the light was on twice , twice, twice - then everything became dark.

The screams broke into the air. The music stopped. A gunshot tore like thunder.
"Get down!" Raymond shouted, grabbed Vera and pulled her behind a table. The glass sharks rained as a chandelier, scattered on the marble floor.
"Marco!" He shouted. "Get out!"
But Marco did not respond. Instead, his voice came from the shadow - now, unfamiliar, till now. "I am sorry, Mrs. Hale. Order orders."
His stomach changed. He was so late that he hired his prisoners.
The flashlight erupted through chaos. The guests pushed and shouted. The two guards went through the crowd, proceeded directly to Vera. Raymond struggled on his feet, tried to block them, but one of them gave him a tough competition with the butt of the gun. He collapsed, blood fell down from his temple.
"Raymond!"
He once fired, the bullet grazed the shoulder of a guard. He fell, but one and one followed him, rotated the gun with his hand and rotated his hand with pain.
"Let me go!" He shouted.
"It's not difficult," said the man. "Juliet sent his love."
They pulled her towards the back door. He kicked, struggled, shouted for help, but nervousness in the ballroom drowned his voice. Somebody hit him on the head, and the world bent sideways. The last thing he saw, Raymond used to crawl towards him, his face was white with terror.
Then everything turned black.
When he woke up, his head beat. The air smells of moist wood and gasoline. He tried to leave, but his wrist was tied. The room was dark, leaving the unconscious glow of a lantern swinging from the roof.
She was slowly trying to focus, focus. The place was old - perhaps an abandoned warehouse or cottage. It rained on the roof. She could hear the sound of the sea nearby.
Came at the footsteps. "Welcome, Mrs. Hell."

This was Marco. His expensive suit went away, replaced with a black combat gear. There was no mark of the man on his face whom he had trusted.
"Where am I?" he demanded.
"Nobody will find you anywhere," he said. "You have created a lot of enemies, Vera. Juliet wants to end your way."
Vera picked up her chin, which calmed into her trembling voice. "Then why am I still alive?"
Marco smiled unconsciously. "Because she wants to see you fall first. She wants you to see whatever you are making."
His heart jumped. "You are making a mistake. She will also destroy you." "Maybe," he said, "but at least I will live for a long time to beg you."
He turned to leave, but Vera's voice cooled her. "You think you are safe because you serve him. You are not. Everyone who serves Juliet dies."
He hesitated for half a second before walking out.
Vera's eyes roam around, searching for anything fast. He saw a piece of broken metal near the corner of the room. If she can just reach it ...
She slowly started moving forward, scrapping her wrist against ropes. The pain erupted, but he ignored it. The rope started being surprised.
Meanwhile, back in the ballroom, Raymond was being loaded into an ambulance, dripping blood from his forehead. His voice was hoarse. "Find her. Don't stop. She is pregnant - she can't handle-"
But his words faded into darkness.
The Rowan, who survived the chaos, stood outside the ruins of the incident, soaking the rain through his clothes. He gripped his jaw. "Juliet," he said, his voice was shaking with anger. "you've gone too far."
He took out his phone and dialed. "Activate every contact with us. I want Vera to meet before the sunrise."
Inside the hideout, Vera finally cut through the rope. His wrist was raw, bleeding, but he did not care. He grabbed the metal sharp and reduced hearing.

Two guards were standing outside the door, talking.
"... Juliet said that until he comes, not to touch him," one said.
"She will be here at dawn. She wants to give the message herself."
Vera's breath intensified. She could not wait for that long.
He threw himself at the window, slammed his shoulder against the wooden frame. It did not break. He tried again, hard, until it tore a little. The guard heard this and burst from the door.
Vera spoon swinging metal sharks. One of them dumped, but he killed his arm. The other dropped him down, dropped him down. He cut his hand, kicked him hard in the stomach, and scrambled towards the broken window.
A gun went away.
The pain passes through his shoulder. He fell, gasping, catching the wound.
"Do not do it!" The guard shouted.
But Vera did not stop. He pulled himself forward, soaked his dress to the blood, and forced his body through a narrow inauguration. Glass tore her skin, but freedom was worth pain.
She crashed into the ground outside crying, landing on wet grass. Cold air hit his face. Somewhere far away, a lighthouse flickers.
She began to crawl. Every movement felt like fire. Rain mixed with blood, turning the earth beneath her slick and red. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind whispered one thing over and over the baby.
She reached the road just as headlights appeared in the distance. A van slowed, tires screeching. She lifted her hand weakly, praying it wasn’t another trap.
The door opened.
A familiar voice shouted, “Vera!”
It was Rowan.
He rushed to her, lifting her into his arms. “God, what did they do to you?” “Juliette,” she whispered. “She sent them. They were my guards.”

Rowan’s face hardened. “She’s making her move. But she won’t win this time.”
Vera clung to him weakly, tears mixing with rain. “We have to warn Raymond.”
“We will,” he said, setting her gently in the van. “But right now, you need to survive first.”
As the van sped off into the storm, Vera’s eyes fluttered closed. The pain in her shoulder throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside, she felt the baby move again, small, fragile, alive.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Hold on, little one. Mama’s not done yet.”