Chapter 70: Midnight Intrusion and a Duke’s Fury

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The moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the Hellgrave estate, painting silver trails across the bedroom floor. Verbena lay curled against Theodore's chest, their breathing slow and synchronized after hours of tangled passion.

But outside their door, shadows moved.

The assassin slipped past the guards with ghostlike silence, blending into the dark. His orders were clear — kill the Duchess before dawn.

Inside the room, Theodore stirred awake. His instincts had been honed through countless battles, and tonight they screamed danger. His arm tightened protectively around Verbena's waist, his eyes snapping open.

That's when he saw it — the faintest shimmer of a blade reflecting moonlight, just outside their window.

In a blur of motion, Theodore grabbed his sword from the bedside and threw Verbena to the floor, covering her with his body just as the window shattered.

Glass rained over them, and a figure leapt inside, blade gleaming.

"Stay down," Theodore ordered, his voice low and lethal.

The assassin charged, aiming for Verbena — but Theodore was faster. Their blades clashed, sparks flying.

Verbena scrambled back, heart pounding, but her eyes were wide with fierce resolve. She wasn't the helpless girl they thought she was.

With a swift grab, she snatched a dagger from Theodore's desk. When the assassin dodged Theodore's strike and came for her again, she threw the blade — it struck the assassin's shoulder, buying Theodore enough time to drive his sword through the intruder's chest.

The assassin gasped, blood spilling over his lips. But before Theodore could question him, the man bit down on something hidden in his mouth — poison. His body went limp.

Silence fell, except for their ragged breaths.

Theodore pulled Verbena into his arms, his hands trembling slightly. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, fingers curling into his shirt. "I'm fine. But this… this was planned, wasn't it?"

Theodore's jaw clenched. "They dared to send someone into our bedroom." His voice was dark with fury. "They want to take you from me."

Verbena's hands cupped his face. "They can't. I won't let them."

For a moment, the dangerous duke softened, his forehead resting against hers. But that moment was brief.

He stood, pulling her up with him. "From now on, you sleep with a dagger under your pillow. And I sleep with my sword beside me."

Verbena's smile was small but defiant. "How romantic."

Theodore's lips curved into a smirk. "I'll show you romantic after I bury whoever ordered this."

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At dawn, the household buzzed with tension. The head maid's face was pale, the butler barking orders to reinforce every window and door. Guards were doubled, and every servant was questioned.

Theodore summoned his most trusted spies, giving a single order: Find the traitor inside the palace — and make them beg for mercy they'll never receive.

Verbena, meanwhile, prepared herself. No more soft-hearted reactions. If they wanted to play dirty, so would she.

Dressed in her finest black gown, her hair pinned like a crown of thorns, she looked every inch the deadly duchess the rumors spoke of.

At breakfast, Theodore's gaze lingered on her longer than usual. "You look…"

"Like a woman who's ready to tear out throats," Verbena finished for him.

He laughed darkly. "Perfect."

They dined together, hands brushing under the table, a silent vow exchanged — we fight together.

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Meanwhile, back at the palace, whispers ran wild.

The Empress's ladies-in-waiting gossiped behind lace fans. "Did you hear? The assassin failed. They say the Duke fought him shirtless, like a war god."

"And the Duchess? I heard she threw a dagger like a true Hellgrave bride."

"Perhaps they underestimated her."

The Empress, listening quietly, smiled behind her teacup. "That only makes the game more interesting."

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That night, in their chamber, Theodore pulled Verbena into his lap, his fingers tracing the faint scratch on her arm from the shattered glass.

"You saved my life," she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder. "No, little rose. You saved mine."

The kiss that followed was no longer desperate — it was possessive, a vow that neither death nor enemy would come between them.

In the heart of darkness, they found each other.

To be continued.

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