Chapter 49 UNEXPECTED VISITORS
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
GENERAL POV
Six knights and the executioner were murdered in a single night.
There were no alarms. No warnings. No witnesses brave enough to speak. Their deaths came quietly, almost respectfully, as though whoever had done it wanted the sanctuary to wake up and understand the message without explanation.
By dawn, the truth had already spread.
Everyone knew it was Kane’s doing.
But knowing and speaking were two very different things.
No one challenged him. No one confronted him. Not because they were unsure, but because they understood how power truly worked within the sanctuary. Rank did not matter as much as fear. And Kane had climbed that invisible hierarchical ladder with blood, loss, and ruthless defiance.
Challenging him now would be foolish.
Dangerous.
Deadly.
Yet even Kane had limits.
The Widow Collector remained untouched.
He was formidable. Ancient in influence. Woven too deeply into the laws of the sanctuary to be erased overnight. Kane knew that much. That was why he did not move openly against him. Not yet.
For now, Kane laid low.
But deep inside, he promised himself something with absolute certainty.
One way or another, the Widow Collector would fall.
That night, Kane lay in his room, staring at nothing, his body still stiff with pain. His injuries had not fully healed, but the ache had dulled enough for him to sit up when necessary. Pain no longer frightened him. It had become familiar.
Then he felt it.A shift in the air. A presence that did not belong. Kane’s eyes opened instantly.
He pushed himself up from the bed, ignoring the sharp pull in his side. His gaze swept the room, senses alert. He did not need to search long.
There was only one person who could enter his room without a sound.
Only one who would dare.
The Widow Collector.
Kane exhaled slowly and sat back down, deliberately unimpressed. If this was a confrontation, he would not give the satisfaction of fear.
“Hello, Kane,” the man said calmly.
Kane lifted his head, irritation flickering across his face.
“Why are you here?” he asked coldly.
“You are breaking a sacred rule,” the Widow Collector replied. “One that could cost you your life.”
Kane stared at him for a moment, unimpressed, unbothered.
“And what rule would that be?” he asked. “Speak fast. We are not friends.”
The Widow Collector studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unsaid threats.
“You spilled blood without permission,” he said finally. “That kind of act never goes unanswered….especially when it comes to do with the knights”
Kane’s lips curved into a humorless smile.
“Then perhaps the sanctuary should have thought about that before they tried to break me,” he replied. “Or before they touched what was never theirs.”
The Widow Collector’s gaze sharpened, but his voice remained controlled.
“You are walking a thin line, Kane.”
Kane leaned back slightly, unfazed.
“I have always walked thin lines,” he said. “If you came to warn me, you are late. If you came to threaten me, you will have to do better.”
The Widow Collector did not respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.
“Not about that even..its about the mutate….”
Samantha lay flat on her bed, her phone glowing faintly in the dark.
Her fingers scrolled endlessly as she searched for information, her brows drawn together in frustration. She was trying to piece together fragments of history that refused to align. Nocturne Havens. The Draven lineage. The ancestral father known only as Grandfather.
And most importantly, his involvement with the Widow Collector.
Everything felt deliberately hidden. Every answer led to more questions. The deeper she searched, the more uneasy she felt.
She sighed softly and dropped the phone beside her.
Then she heard something.
A faint knock.
Samantha’s heart skipped violently.
“Who’s there?” she asked, already rising from the bed.
She opened the door slowly.
What she saw sent shock through her entire body.
“Micky?”
The child stood there quietly, small and fragile beneath the dim hallway light.
“Hi,” Micky said.
Panic flooded Samantha instantly.
Without thinking, she pulled Micky inside and shut the door quickly, her hands shaking. Memories rushed back. Kane’s fury. His grip on her arm. The slap she never forgot.
Now Micky was in her room.
Did she still think she was her late mother?
Samantha felt sick….sick to ber stomach
“Hey… what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
“You told me to come find you,” Micky said innocently.
“No,” Samantha shook her head quickly. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I never said…”
“Shhh,” Micky interrupted softly.
Samantha froze.
“Don’t try to hide it,” Micky continued. “I might be a baby, but I’m not a fool. I know who you are, Samantha.”
Shame burned through her chest.
Micky looked up at her with surprising calm.
“You’re not my mum,” she said. “But you look exactly like her. And you’re kind. I like that.”
Samantha swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I lied to you. But you really can’t be here. Kane… your dad would kill me if he finds out.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him,” Micky replied.
Then her voice softened.
“I had a bad dream,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep. I was scared. If my mummy was alive, she would have cuddled me.”
That was enough reason
Samantha pulled her into her arms without hesitation, holding her tightly.
“Can I sleep here?” Micky asked quietly. “Just for a while. I’ll go back tomorrow.”
Samantha hesitated, anxiety clawing at her chest.
She didn’t want trouble. She didn’t want punishment.
But this was Micky.
The girl she loved.
“Please,” Micky whispered. “I won’t tell Daddy.”
Samantha sighed softly in defeat.
“Come here,” she said, lifting the duvet.
Micky crawled under and wrapped her small arms around Samantha.
Samantha lay awake long after, heart racing.
She knew Kane would find out.
And when he did, heaven itself might not save her.