Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife The Twins Are Not Yours novel Chapter 387

Chapter 387: Fear?

Athena’s phone buzzed against the carved mahogany side table beside her, the metallic vibration ricocheting through the still room as if it had no right to be there.

Above, the chandelier spilled pale light, its glow gleaming against the polished surface of the drip stand. That light shifted and threw a trembling shadow that moved across Spider’s face like a second heartbeat, uneven and restless.

The ringing again struck Athena’s nerves, making her shoulders knot. It didn’t belong here, not in this fragile cocoon of recovery, whispered prayers, and breaths stolen from the brink.

Spider’s case still disturbed her, shocked her. The poison had been deadlier than she had imagined. And how he had survived, was yet a mystery. It was like his body was different.

There were no adequate machinations at the Thorne’s mansion, or else she would have done some test.

"Who is calling?" Aiden’s voice cut lazily across the sound, though his eyes never were. He was balanced on the arm of a velvet chair, posture casual, but his attention sharp as glass.

His lips curved into something between smirk and genuine question. "The president?"

Athena didn’t answer right away. Her fingers closed around the phone, but her thumb hovered over the glowing screen as if the glass might scorch her.

For a moment, her body betrayed her—her pulse thudded too visibly at her throat, and she despised that Aiden could see it. Why was she nervous? She had spoken to the president on countless bases.

Her eyes flicked to the caller ID again, and then she gave the answer, low, almost reluctant. "Yes."

Still, she didn’t press accept.

Aiden tilted his head. "You’re hesitating." His tone carried amusement, but the way his gaze dissected her was probing. "Let me guess—you’re wondering if he thinks the tip came from a mole, or if he’s decided you walked into that building yourself. You are worried about the fallout on Ewan, should he decide to investigate the matter, tying it to us?"

Her jaw tensed. Her tongue darted to wet her lower lip before she caught it between her teeth, chewing indecision down into silence.

If Ewan had been there, she thought, he would have cut through the hesitation in a single sentence. His certainty was always blunt, always unshakable, a blade through fog.

But Ewan wasn’t here. He had gone to meet Old Mr. Thorne, to speak of the mission, and probable fall out of it.

Athena drew air deep into her lungs, forcing steadiness into her frame. Her eyes drifted back to Spider. He stirred faintly, lids twitching against whatever dream held him captive. His chest rose and fell like a fragile tide.

Soon he would wake. And maybe then she would finally know why his face tugged so mercilessly at her memory. Why every time she looked at him, she felt the echo of a name she could not reach.

They had been lucky.

Too lucky. The word pulsed in her skull, too loud to ignore. Lucky to have pulled Spider out without resistance. Luckier still that the plane had been waiting, carrying them away moments before the president’s men stormed the compound.

The phone buzzed again, insistently.

Athena pressed accept. "Mr. President," she said, her voice smooth, clipped, revealing nothing.

"Athena." His baritone rolled through the line, roughened by fatigue but braced with authority. It was a voice that bore the fragile weight of a nation.

"Everything you sent me has been confirmed. The children, the women—they were exactly where you said. My men found them alive."

Relief spread through her chest, loosening something tight around her lungs, though her shoulders held rigid, steel refusing to bend. "Good," she breathed.

"And the chemicals," he continued, his tone heavy. "Our analysts believe they tie into the Grey Disease. Not completely so considering the smell and particles they were able to excavate from the site, but close. Dangerous. Do you think it’s a new virus? Can you guess what these people are planning?"

Athena closed her eyes, the words cutting like knives. They needed to cleave the wings of the wicked as soon as possible!

"I am not sure, Mr. President. Let’s just hope it’s something else."

"But I don’t think it is."

Athena sighed. "We will have to wait it out then. I’ll be communicating with my mole inside the gang."

The president did not soften. "Tell me, Athena... who is your mole inside the gang?"

Her lashes lifted, and her voice came out with quiet steel, firm and controlled. "That is a secret."

On the other end, silence stretched. Not anger, but a silence that acknowledged.

Finally, his exhale rasped through the line. "Very well."

"You must burn the building," Athena said quickly, her tone sharper, commanding. "Every scrap, every trace. Check for tunnels, crawl spaces, hidden doors. Men like Kael never build cages without exits."

"It’s done," he answered. "The building was scoured. No secret routes. It’s been burned to the ground."

Her nails bit into the wood edge of the table, pressing crescent moons into the surface. "Good."

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