The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 415

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The car pulled to a stop in front of a rundown motel.

The building was only three stories high. The exterior paint was peeling in large flakes, revealing the drab, soot-stained concrete underneath. Rusty iron bars were welded over the windows, and some of the broken glass panes were patched up with dirty cardboard.

A few heavily tattooed men stood near the entrance, smoking and chatting. Seeing the car pull up, they flicked their cigarettes away and cast wary glances in their direction.

The moment Christian stepped out of the vehicle, a man in a black leather jacket approached.

"Boss?" he asked in English, carrying a gruff, street-hardened accent.

Christian nodded.

The man gestured for them to follow and led them inside the motel.

They navigated a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The light grew scarcer the deeper they went, relying on a single flickering, yellowed bulb overhead. The floorboards groaned in protest with every step, some sections dipping severely enough to reveal pitch-black voids underneath. Peeling wallpaper exposed blackened cement, and faint, dark reddish stains were visible—layers of dried blood that had soaked into the concrete long ago.

From the depths of the corridor came the sound of a woman crying. It was muffled and desperate, like a trapped animal.

Then came a heavy, sickening thud, and the crying abruptly ceased.

Miles's face drained of color.

Christian didn't break his stride.

They climbed a wobbly staircase to the second floor. The handrails were rusted over, shedding flakes of orange iron with a single touch. A vagrant crouched at the landing, staring at them with clouded eyes and muttering incomprehensible words under his breath.

The second-floor hallway was even narrower, the lighting even worse.

Their guide stopped at Room 208 and knocked—three long taps, two short.

The door cracked open, and after the person inside verified who it was, it swung wide.

The room was shrouded in gloom, illuminated only by a small bedside lamp. Piper lay quietly on a decrepit bed. Her breathing was steady, and though her face was pale, she appeared to simply be asleep.

Christian walked over quickly and crouched by the bed.

"Piper?"

No response.

The man who had led them inside spoke up:

"Don't worry, Boss. She's unharmed. Slipped some sedatives, she'll sleep it off in a few hours."

Christian looked up.

"Where are the two men?"

The man's lips curled into a smirk.

"Locked in the room next door. Waiting for you to deal with them."

He paused, lowering his voice:

"This zone is off the grid. The cops don't come here, and no one asks questions about dead bodies. You can do whatever you want."

Christian was silent for a second.

"Take me to them."

—

The door to the adjacent room was shoved open, releasing a wave of mildew mixed with the distinct copper stench of blood.

There were no lights on inside. The only illumination came from the hallway, faintly outlining two figures huddled in the corner.

Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs, and duct tape sealed their mouths. Seeing the door open, they thrashed wildly, muffled whimpers escaping their throats.

Christian stepped into the room.

Miles lingered by the door, completely pale.

"Mr. Lancaster..."

"Wait here," Christian commanded.

The door shut behind him.

The room plunged into darkness.