Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 96: Imperial Haven

The room fell into an eerie silence, as if time itself had paused. The only sound was the distant hum of the wind colliding with trees and mountains, occasionally carrying a ghostly whistle through the cracks of the ancient villa.

The man slowly lifted his eyes from his phone. His glacial blue irises, deep and clear like a mountain lake beneath a cloudless sky, spoke of centuries passed in silence... of a time so old it no longer breathed.

With an elegant motion that surpassed imperial grace, he stood. There was a quiet majesty to him, as if gravity dared not rush his movements. He walked toward the wall, drew aside a heavy curtain, and unlocked a large sapphire-glass window. As the window opened, a gust of cold mountain air poured in, flooding the room with the scent of snow and pine.

The humming wind was no longer distant. It howled now, furious and free, like an ancient spirit awakened from slumber.

The man stood before the open window, his figure towering over seven feet tall. He looked less like a person and more like an ancient god returned to his mountain temple. His long black hair flowed behind him like a banner of midnight, caught in the cold winds. The loose folds of his black silk shirt danced in the air, fluttering violently... but the man remained motionless, unaffected. His pale white face was emotionless, his gaze fixed on the world below.

In the distance, the Greater Caucasus rose in solemn splendour... a range carved by titans, draped in winter’s solemn veil. Snow crowned each jagged peak, their edges brushed faintly in gold and rose by the last sigh of the sun as it retreated beyond the western horizon. The wind whispered through the valleys like a mournful hymn, stirring flurries of snow into gentle spirals that danced with the fading light.

Obsidian shadows deepened in crevices untouched by daylight. The silver-lined ridges shimmered like ancient blades, and the slow, deliberate descent of snowflakes through twilight resembled celestial ash falling from unseen heavens.

Below, dark silhouettes of ancient pine trees slumbered under layers of frost. No sound of life or movement reached this height. Only the eternal hush of wind and ice remained, as though time itself held its breath.

In the final rays of dusk, the crown of the mountains turned crimson... like the blood of ancient battles staining the snow before fading into a dusky hue of ash and violet. Then came the stars, one by one, dotting the sky in silent celebration. The darkness eased, and the mountain range stepped into its truest form... endless, sacred, alive.

A scene too vast for canvas, too sacred for memory.

The man closed the window with a soft click. He drew the curtains shut and turned. His face, impossibly beautiful and untouched by emotion, was like a mask sculpted by centuries.

walked back to the throne-like sofa at the center of the room. Made of brass studding and draped in crushed velvet, it was a seat fit for emperors, yet he carried himself as if he needed no throne to declare his dominance. He sat, folding one leg over the other, his

looked like a god cloaked in shadow, contemplating

and resonant, filled with the weight of unseen ages. "Observe her from a distance. The sooner she leaves my territory, the better. I don’t want

thumb

his kneeling position, bowed deeply once more, and silently exited the room. The heavy door closed behind him with a soft

whole.

***

had turned a deep indigo, and most houses in the industrial

the exact coordinates Eleanor had provided, a five-story building stood quietly beneath the dim starlight. The sign hanging above the glass entrance read: "Imperial Haven"... though it gave

flickered behind some of the windows, and subtle movement could be observed from afar. Though the area was silent, the

the shadow

possessed a unique sensitivity to underground structures, felt the unmistakable presence of several sublevels beneath the building as they

a brief assessment,

us

through different entry points with ghostlike precision. None of the night workers noticed their

surveillance

room and sent a message to the team Eleanor had linked them with... referred to simply as the

circular device and waited,

if Eleanor trusted them, that was enough. And judging by their efficiency, they were damn good at what