Moscow – The Hunt for Roselle Begins

(Samuel's POV – Entering the Lioness's Den)

The moment I stepped off the plane, the cold Moscow air hit me.

Crisp. Sharp. Unforgiving.

I pulled my black trench coat tighter around me as I walked through the airport, my new identity fully in place.

Wolf.

No longer Samuel Gebb.

No longer tied to the past.

Now?

I had one focus.

Roselle.

I wasted no time.

By the time I checked into my penthouse suite, I had already sent out a few discreet inquiries.

Volkov's contacts were efficient. Ruthless.

And by midnight, I had the answers I needed.

Roselle Vasilyev.

The Mafia Queen of Russia.

A woman far beyond the reach of Bardot Industries and Maa Industries.

Unlike those pathetic businesswomen, Roselle wasn't just a corporate shark.

She was a ruler. A sovereign of the underworld.

Her power stretched across continents, her empire built on blood, deals, and absolute control.

And unlike Abigail or Katerina, she wasn't the type to betray or be betrayed.

Because anyone who crossed her… disappeared.

I smirked as I read through the files in front of me.

"Now this… is interesting."

I leaned back in my penthouse suite, sipping a glass of Russian vodka as I scanned the information on Roselle Vasilyev.

The Mafia Queen of Russia.

A woman who was feared, respected, and untouchable.

Her empire made Bardot Industries and Maa Industries look like child's play.

Unlike those pathetic businesswomen, she didn't rely on connections or corporate schemes—she ruled with absolute power.

She had control over the underground, the black markets, the arms trade, and even the political elite.

She wasn't just a CEO.

She was a Queen.

And most importantly—she wasn't someone I could underestimate.

I swirled the vodka in my glass, smirking. "A woman like her... this might actually be fun."

I placed the files down, exhaling.

I needed to meet her.

But barging into her world unprepared?

That was a death sentence.

Instead, I needed to observe. Learn. Find the cracks in her empire.

I pulled out my phone, dialing one of Volkov's informants.

A deep Russian voice answered. "Говори." (Speak.)

I smirked. "Tell me where Roselle Vasilyev is tonight."

A brief silence. Then—

"The Red Diamond Banquet Hall. Invitation only."

I grinned. "Then get me an invitation."

The man chuckled darkly. "That will cost you."

I finished my drink and stood up, grabbing my black trench coat.

"Send me the details. Money is never an issue."

I hung up, smirking.

The hunt had begun.

(Samuel's POV – The Danger That is Roselle Vasilyev)

I walked through the cold Moscow streets, the neon glow of the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement.

The night air was sharp, but it wasn't the cold that sent a shiver down my spine.

It was the thought of her.

Roselle Vasilyev.

The Lord of Darkness.

A woman who, in our second life, stood against me in battle countless times.

A woman who, unlike Abigail and Katerina, didn't rely on deception or manipulation.

No.

Roselle was pure strength, pure intelligence, and pure ruthlessness.

A true Queen.

I smirked, adjusting my black trench coat.

But then, my expression darkened.

"If she has her powers from our second life…"

I exhaled sharply.

"Then she's even more dangerous than I thought."

Roselle wasn't just another businesswoman.

She was a warrior. A strategist. A ruler.

And considering our history?

She was here for one reason—

To kill me.

I let out a small, dark chuckle.

"Tch. Just like old times, huh?"

I could almost hear her cold voice from our past life.

"You think you can destroy me, Heavenly Demon? You think you can stand above me?"

A grin spread across my face.

I cracked my knuckles, feeling the power surging through my veins.

"Well, Roselle… Let's see if you're still as strong as I remember."

The moment I stepped into my penthouse, the city lights reflecting through the glass walls, my thoughts kept circling back to her.

Roselle Vasilyev.

The Lord of Darkness. The Mafia Queen. My greatest rival.

I removed my trench coat, tossing it onto the leather chair as I poured myself another drink.

The vodka burned down my throat, but my mind was far from the warmth of alcohol.

I could feel it—the weight of our inevitable encounter.

I leaned against the window, my reflection staring back at me, yet my mind was years away.

If Roselle had retained her powers from our second life…

I sighed, rolling my shoulders.

"Then she's not just dangerous—she's unstoppable."

Roselle wasn't like Abigail or Katerina.

She wasn't someone who let emotions cloud her judgment.

She was cold, calculative, and merciless.

And worst of all?

She learns.

She never makes the same mistake twice.

Back in our second life, she had almost defeated me multiple times.

She wasn't just my enemy.

She was my equal.

And now?

She was here.

In this world.

And I knew—without a doubt—

She wasn't just waiting for me.

She was hunting me.

I set my glass down, running a hand through my hair.

"Tch. It was bound to happen eventually."

The question wasn't if we would cross paths.

It was when.

And when that time came…

Would she try to negotiate?

Or would she strike first?

I smirked, cracking my knuckles.

"Well, Roselle… I'm waiting."

Because whether it was as Samuel Gebb, the Harbinger of Destruction—

Or as Wolf, the Ghost of War—

This war was already written in blood.