?Chapter 809:

    Raegan’s head snapped up, her breath catching. Confusion churned in her chest. “Sir, have I erred?” Her voice rasped, thick with disbelief.

    The chapel fell into a hush, the air thick with tension.

    Masked members exchanged furtive nces, their eyes darting between Raegan and the tform.

    Chris’ gaze, cold as steel, offered no warmth. “Maia Watson is not one to cross,” he said, his words detonating like a grenade in the silence.

    Raegan’s fists clenched, her lips pressed into a tight line beneath her mask.

    Without another word, Chris turned, his silver mask catching thest flicker of candlelight before he vanished into the chapel’s shadowed depths.

    The members stood frozen, their breaths shallow in the wake of his departure.

    After a long moment, Raegan stirred, her voice regaining its crisp edge. “Disperse,” she ordered the others. “Hold the leader’s words close.”

    An hourter, Raegan strode into the hotel lobby. Her mind churned, a storm of questions and doubts.

    Why had the leader spoken so sharply?

    Did he know of her sh with Maia at the art exhibition?

    His warning had been unmistakable, a de pressed to her pride.

    In all her years, Raegan had never encountered such a situation.

    Yet now, doubt gnawed at her. Who was Maia?

    She was not a member of The Mask — that much was certain.

    An undercover agent, perhaps?

    But if Maia truly belonged to The Mask, Raegan reasoned, she and the others would have been informed the moment Maia set foot in Sceibar. Or was Maia something else entirely — a new piece on Chris’ chessboard, a rival threatening Raegan’s ce at his side?

    The thought twisted like a knife. Raegan had always seen herself as his sharpest weapon, his most trusted de.

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    No one could supnt her. She would not allow it.

    Her agitation simmered, a fire stoked by every unanswered question.

    Swiping her key card at the presidential suite’s door, she heard the lock click. But as she stepped forward, she froze. Her breath caught.

    Kiley was already home — far earlier than expected.

    Kiley reclined in the plush armchair of the presidential suite, one hand draped across her knee, the other deftly navigating herptop. Her eyes remained locked on the glowing screen, where Maia’s photograph dominated the center, nked by a crisp dossier of her details.

    “Why did you slip out without a word?” Kiley asked, her voice smooth as silk, not bothering to nce up.

    The question hung between them, casual yet pointed, betraying no hint of her inner thoughts.

    Raegan hesitated, then broke into her trademark grin. Swaying her hips, she sauntered over and dropped onto Kiley’sp, her voice a yful murmur. “You were gone forever, Kiley. I was climbing the walls in here, so I took a walk to shake off the boredom.”

    Kiley arched a brow, her gaze still fixed on theptop. “A walk? Or a man? Feeling blue, are you?”

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