?Chapter 947:


    Elena remained unaware of the schemes N had set in motion. This morning, the cold side of the bed greeted her once more—Wesley hadn’t returned.


    Meanwhile, inside the quiet opulence of Hillside Manor, Wesley sat, his arm being stitched up by his doctor.


    Arion stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the wound, his expression shadowed with self-me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer. This one’s on me. I failed to intercept the threat in time.”


    Never before had Arion missed his mark so badly. Wesley had been attacked right under his watch. Though the assassin had been shot dead, it did little to ease the weight of his failure.


    After wrapping the bandage with practiced precision, the doctor instructed, “Keep it dry.”


    Without a word, Felix walked the doctor to the door. Arion kept his head bowed, shoulders stiff with guilt.


    Wesley’s expression was calm. If not for the blood sttered across his shirt, one would never guess he’d been injured at all. His voice was steady when he spoke. “Straighten up.”


    At once, Arionplied.


    With a flick of his wrist, Wesley lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke with practiced ease. “That man was elite. It’s not shocking that he got through.”


    Arion had once been a mercenary—one of the best. But against an assassin of that caliber, his instincts hadn’t been enough.


    Despite Wesley’s response, Arion couldn’t shake the growing self-reproach curling in his gut. Leaning forward, he voiced what had been gnawing at him. “Mr. Spencer, this is the third time someone’s tried to kill you. Maybe we need to escte—call in the military.”


    Three assassination attempts. That was the count now. And it wasn’t random. Earle had ced a ten-billion-dor bounty on Wesley’s head. That kind of money pulled monsters out of hiding.


    At first, Arion had believed his skills would be enough to keep Wesley safe. But now? His confidence had started to crack. No ego was worth more than Wesley’s life.


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    Wesley didn’t say a word and simply sat there. Theck of response made Arion tense, and he pressed on. “Mr. Spencer, the number one assassin in the world—Nightshade—hasn’t taken on Earle’s mission just yet. But if Nightshade does, we won’t stand a chance.”


    Just uttering Nightshade’s name gave Arion chills. There was a reason Nightshade’s name was whispered with caution—he was a myth wrapped in blood. No mission failed. No target survived.


    Compared to Nightshade, the assassins Arion had taken down were amateurs. Nightshade operated on an entirely different level.


    No one knew Nightshade’s face. No photo existed. No origin story was ever confirmed. He had vanished five years ago, and every sane person hoped he’d stay gone.


    Arion didn’t catch the flicker in Wesley’s eyes when the name came up. Momentster, Felix reentered after escorting the doctor out. He asked, “Are you heading to the Azure Dragon Unit base today, Mr. Spencer?”


    Sincest night, not a single word hade from Elena. Wesley clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”


    Another hour without going back, and that ice-hearted woman might just erase him from her memory altogether. Suddenly, Arion’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and went pale. Felix gave him a sharp look. “What’s with that face? You look like the sky’s about to fall.”


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