Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 96: Imperial Haven

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.

He 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 fingers interlaced in front of him.

He looked like a god cloaked in shadow, contemplating the world beneath.

"Let her do what she wants," he said finally, his voice deep 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 a certain madwoman throwing money around and drawing attention to my domain."

He picked up his phone again, his thumb idly scrolling through the information on the screen.

Dmitry Petrov finally rose from his kneeling position, bowed deeply once more, and silently exited the room. The heavy door closed behind him with a soft thud.

Silence returned, swallowing everything whole. As if nothing had happened.

***

It was well past midnight. The sky above Durykino had turned a deep indigo, and most houses in the industrial outskirts were now veiled in sleep and darkness.

At 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 no hint of what lay inside.

Despite the hour, faint lights flickered behind some of the windows, and subtle movement could be observed from afar. Though the area was silent, the building was clearly still active.

That’s why the shadow guards chose caution.

Raphael, who possessed a unique sensitivity to underground structures, felt the unmistakable presence of several sublevels beneath the building as they approached. Something was hidden below.

After a brief assessment, Sebastian made a call.

"Isadora stays outside on guard. The rest of us split up and go in separately," he ordered.

They melted into the shadows and slipped through different entry points with ghostlike precision. None of the night workers noticed their presence.

Surprisingly, the building lacked any visible surveillance system. Not a single security camera.

A suspicious Sebastian made his way to a secluded corner room and sent a message to the team Eleanor had linked them with... referred to simply as the "US team." Their task was remote reconnaissance, operating from thousands of miles away using tech Eleanor had entrusted them with.

He turned on a small circular device and waited, staring at it thoughtfully.

He didn’t know who the other side was. But if Eleanor trusted them, that was enough. And judging by their efficiency, they were damn good at what they did.

A soft ping lit up his phone.

"The coast is clear. No security cameras found. However, we detected a strange field-based security system. Couldn’t identify specifics... likely manual or local override only."

Sebastian let out a slow breath. They were only here to scout. No confrontation was planned.

He immediately informed his team through the earpiece. "No cameras, but there is a manual security system. Do NOT alert the enemy."

A second later, the entire team was in motion.

Sebastian was on the ground floor. Two receptionists sat behind a wide desk, typing and sipping coffee like it was just another Tuesday night. To the left, three elevators gleamed. Odd, for such a small facility.

Behind the elevators was a large bar and restaurant. This part of the building was shockingly alive. Despite the soundproof walls that had made the place seem quiet from the outside, the interior was bustling with energy.

People were laughing, drinking, eating, and shouting. Servers moved rapidly between tables. Televisions lined the far wall, broadcasting sports and late-night shows. Yet what struck Sebastian most was the crowd: nearly everyone in the bar was armed.

This was no ordinary business. It looked like the den of a powerful underground boss.

He spotted a narrow staircase leading upward, used by staff to carry trays of food. Climbing it carefully, Sebastian reached the first floor... a stark contrast to the chaotic energy below.

Here, a long corridor stretched in both directions. Several private dining rooms lined the walls, each with closed doors. He peeked into a few. Private meals, shady business discussions, and guarded silence.

At the end of the hall, a recreational area opened up. A pool table, foosball, card tables, even table tennis. Some were playing and gossiping and laughing happily.

Now it resembled a shady private club... discreet, exclusive, and secretive.