Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 222 - Two Hundred And Twenty One

The heavy oak door rattled under the force of the knock.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Derek groaned, a low, frustrated sound that vibrated in his chest. He ignored the door. He ignored the world outside. He ignored the duty that was calling his name. His hands were busy fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers, trying to free himself, trying to stay in the moment with Marissa. He wanted to be back in the bed, back in the warmth, back in her arms.

"Your Grace," Ian’s voice called again, muffled by the thick wood but clear enough to ruin the mood. "I am sorry if I am disturbing anything... but it is urgent."

Derek closed his eyes and hissed through his teeth. He rested his forehead against Marissa’s, his breathing ragged and uneven.

He could feel her heart beating against his chest, a rhythm he wanted to get lost in.

"When he’s tired," Derek muttered against her skin, his voice thick with desire and annoyance, "he’ll leave. He knows better than to stand there all night."

Marissa smiled, though her heart was breaking a little. She knew Ian. She knew the Elite Shadows. They didn’t knock or appear for trivial things.

"He said it’s urgent, Derek," Marissa whispered. Her hands rested on his chest, gently pushing him back, creating a sliver of space between them. "Ian wouldn’t interrupt unless it was serious."

Derek pulled back slightly, looking down at her with wide, pleading eyes. He looked like a man being dragged away from a feast. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"Mariiiiii...." he complained, dragging out her name in a whine that was surprisingly childish for a Grand Duke who commanded armies. "Just five minutes. Just five."

Marissa touched his cheek. Her skin was cool against his flushed face.

"Go," she whispered.

Derek pulled away. The separation felt physical, like tearing skin. The cold air of the room rushed into the space between them. He stood up from the bed, his movements jerky with frustration.

He buttoned his shirt with shaking hands, his fingers clumsy. He missed a button, cursed under his breath, and had to redo it. He grabbed his heavy military coat from the chair where he had tossed it earlier.

He looked at her one last time. She was sitting up in bed, the white sheets pulled around her, her hair messy and wild, her lips swollen from his kisses. She looked perfect.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she replied softly.

And then he was gone.

He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He closed it firmly behind him, the latch clicking shut, sealing away the paradise he had just lost.

He met Ian outside the door.

Derek gave Ian a killer’s look. His eyes were dark, his jaw set in a line of hard granite. If looks could kill, Ian would have been dead on the spot, burned to ash by the sheer intensity of the Duke’s glare.

Ian swallowed hard. He took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run.

Then, Ian’s gaze drifted down.

He saw the way Derek’s trousers were strained. He saw the way the fabric pulled tight. He saw how hard Derek was.

Ian’s eyes widened. He realized, with a sudden, sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, that he had just interrupted a very important event. He had interrupted the consummation. He had interrupted the moment the Grand Duke had been waiting for all week.

"It better be urgent," Derek growled.

He adjusted his long coat, pulling it closed to hide his condition, trying to ignore the throbbing pain his unfulfilled arousal was giving him. He shifted his weight, uncomfortable and angry.

"As urgent as you stated," Derek threatened, his voice a low rumble. "Or I will have you cleaning the stables at Strathmore for a month. With a toothbrush."

Ian bowed low, keeping his eyes strictly on the floor. He didn’t dare look up.

"As ordered, Your Grace," Ian said, his voice steady despite his fear. He was a professional. He had a job to do.

Derek took a deep breath, forcing the lover back into the box and bringing the spymaster to the front.

"Report," Derek said.

"I have been monitoring the Second Master," Ian said, getting straight to the point. "Lord Carlos."

Derek’s expression shifted instantly. The frustration vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

"Where is he?" Derek asked. "Is he still at the townhouse?"

Ian shook his head.

"He just left the old townhouse," Ian said. "About an hour ago. He didn’t return to the estate. He didn’t go to a gambling den."

Ian paused for effect.

"He went to Prince Liam’s private residence," Ian revealed. "The secluded one outside the city walls."

Derek looked interested. His eyebrows shot up.

"Prince Liam?" Derek repeated.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. The pieces of the puzzle began to click together in his mind.

He thought about Carlos’s sudden intelligence writing the letter. He thought about how Carlos was smart for that moment and how he had lost one of his shadows.

A moment of silence occurred as the gears turned in Derek’s head.

"So," Derek spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "My brother’s backer is Prince Liam? The Crown Prince is funding a coup in my own house?"

Ian nodded. "It appears so, Your Grace. We saw him enter. He was granted audience immediately. He stayed for almost an hour."

Derek let out a short, bitter laugh.

"Liam is desperate," Derek muttered. "He is scraping the bottom of the barrel if he thinks Carlos can help him. He is using my brother to get to me."

Ian continued, his voice dropping even lower, becoming more serious.

"Additionally," Ian said, "we received a pigeon from the northern scouts. It has been confirmed that Prince Liam sent four assassins to Strathmore late last night."

Derek looked at him sharply.

"Four?" Derek asked. "Assassins? Not soldiers?"

"No, Your Grace," Ian said. "Mercenaries. The kind that don’t wear uniforms. They left the city under the cover of darkness, riding fast horses."

Ian looked at Derek with concern.

"We are about to depart for Strathmore in two days," Ian said, his voice worried. "And His Highness is sending people ahead of us. To the very place we are going. To the place where the war is starting."

Ian clenched his hands.

"I fear it threatens you, Your Grace," Ian said. "He is laying a trap. He wants to ambush you on the road, just like he did at the monastery."

Derek shook his head.

"No," Derek said firmly. "Not me. Not yet."

He looked down the dark, empty hallway. He thought about the timeline.

"If he wanted to kill me," Derek reasoned, "he would wait until I was on the battlefield. He would make it look like a casualty of war. Sending assassins now... it is too messy. It exposes him."

Derek’s eyes narrowed.

"His men seek Captain Nigel," He explained. "They aren’t hunting me. They are hunting the ghost."

"Nigel?" Ian asked.

"Nigel served in Strathmore for years," Derek said, pacing a small circle. "He was Theodore’s man. He was the lieutenant who survived. He always worked for him before he switched sides and betrayed my brother."

Derek stopped pacing.

"He obviously holds evidence," Derek said. "Evidence of Prince Liam’s deeds. Evidence of the ambush that killed my brother. Nigel found out he was in danger. That is why he disappeared. He ran for his life."

Derek looked at Ian.

"Liam knows Nigel is loose," Derek said. "And he knows that if I find Nigel first, I win. I get the proof I need to bring Liam down for treason."

He grabbed Ian’s shoulder.

"Add more people," Derek ordered. "Increase the chances of finding him. Send the fastest riders we have. We must get to Nigel before Liam’s assassins do."

"He is the key to everything," Derek whispered. "If they kill him... the truth dies with him."

Ian bowed. "Yes, Your Grace. I will send the Elite Shadows immediately."

Derek nodded. "Go."

Ian turned and ran down the hallway, his footsteps fading away.

Derek stood alone in the corridor. He turned back to the door of his bedroom. He put his hand on the wood. He could almost feel Marissa’s warmth on the other side.

He wanted to go back in. He wanted to crawl back into bed and forget about everything.

But he knew he couldn’t.

He pushed himself away from the door. He turned and walked toward his study, his stride long and purposeful, the pain in his body ignored, his mind focused solely on the battle ahead.