Chapter 215 The Sokolov Royal Family Secret II

Liam reached out and grabbed the massive double door. The cold iron handle felt strangely warm to the touch, almost like it had been used recently. He pressed his palm against it and pushed.

The door creaked open with a heavy groan that echoed through the silence like a scream in the void.

Inside, the ballroom looked exactly as it had during the midnight party—grand chandeliers, marble floors, and towering pillars. But now, with no people, no lights, no music—it felt like a ghost of its former self.

The whole place was shrouded in an unnatural darkness. A suffocating, thick gloom.

Liam narrowed his eyes.

The reason became obvious.

Every single window had been covered with thick black cloth.

His gaze swept across the ballroom. The silence was so heavy it felt like it had mass.

He didn’t even know where to begin. No sign of life. No trail. No direction.

For a fleeting second, he wished Ann really was in some kind of life-threatening danger. That would at least trigger the system’s urgent red alert: [SAVE YOUR WOMAN], complete with a direction and exact location.

But nothing came.

The system was quiet.

Lana approached from behind, her boots softly tapping against the marble floor.

She came to stand beside him and whispered, "We should split up."

Liam looked at her sharply. "What?"

She folded her arms. "We’ll cover more ground. Two sets of eyes are better than one."

He hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of splitting, especially not in a place that felt like it belonged to the dead. But she was right.

"Alright," he muttered reluctantly. "But be careful."

Lana gave him a slight nod and turned toward the door on the other end of the ballroom.

Liam sighed, pushed down the tension in his chest, and headed to the opposite side. He moved through the dark like a shadow, silent and alert.

The door creaked as he opened it, revealing a long hallway cloaked in the same eerie darkness. Shadows stretched across the walls like twisted fingers. Even the air felt heavier here.

He moved forward.

First room.

He opened the door.

Nothing.

Just a storeroom filled with antiques and dusty furniture draped in white sheets. Ornate vases. Gold-framed paintings. Bronze busts of people long dead. Priceless things. Just sitting here without any protection.

Strange.

He closed the door and moved on to the next.

Same thing. More antiques. More relics from the past.

Room after room, it was the same.

Old objects. Items worth millions—maybe more—but just lying in the open like forgotten trophies.

What the hell is this place? Liam thought. A museum or a mansion?

But then he remembered—they were royalty. Or at least, that’s what they claimed. So maybe this was normal.

Still, it didn’t feel normal.

None of this did.

Then he heard it.

A faint sound. Barely a whisper.

His body froze.

There it was again. A scraping noise. Like something lightly dragging across wood.

He tilted his head, every muscle tightening.

The sound was coming from one of the farthest rooms down the hallway.

He didn’t hesitate.

He moved fast, steps light and controlled.

He reached the door.

The sound stopped.

He reached out and twisted the handle.

Locked.

A chill ran down his spine.

He leaned in, pressing his ear against the cold wood.

Then he heard it.

A sharp, soft wince.

He knew that voice.

Liam didn’t waste another second.

He slammed his foot into the door with a loud, echoing CRACK!

The old wood splintered, and the door flew open with a groan, swinging inwards with a loud bang. Dust puffed out from the hinges, and the smell of damp stone and old metal washed over him.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single flickering candle in the far corner. Shadows danced along the cracked walls. But his eyes were locked on her.

Ann.

She was sitting on the cold stone floor, her back to the wall, both hands chained to a thick metal ring bolted into the wall behind her. Her ankles were bound as well, limiting her movement to a few inches. She flinched and backed away, eyes wide in terror as if expecting someone else—someone worse—to walk through that door.

Her red dress clung to her body, wrinkled and dirt-stained now, her bare feet cold against the floor. The same dress from the party. Her hair was tangled and messy, sticking slightly to her tear-streaked face. But what caught Liam’s attention the most were her eyes.

There was emotion in them again.

Fear. Panic. Confusion. But they were hers.

She was back.

No more that cold, mind-controlled puppet he had seen before. This was the real Ann.

Her lips trembled. And then her head slowly lifted.

She recognized him.

And her expression shifted in an instant—from horror to disbelief, then to overwhelming panic.

"No... no no no no!" she gasped, her voice ragged.

Then she did something that stopped Liam in his tracks.

She struggled to her feet, dragging the chains with her, and staggered toward him.

And then she wrapped her arms around him.

Hard.

Liam’s breath caught.

But she was shaking. She clung to him like she had been alone in a storm and finally found something solid to hold on to.

Her voice was urgent, trembling as she looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears.

"You shouldn’t have come," she whispered. "Liam, you shouldn’t be here."

He frowned. "Ann, what are you—?"

"They knew," she cut him off quickly, her words stumbling over each other. "They knew you’d come for me. They’re waiting. Liam, they’re waiting for you. You have to leave—now!"

"Ann, slow down," Liam said firmly, his hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her still. "You’re not making sense. Who’s waiting for me? Who?!"

But before she could answer, a loud thud rang out in the distance.

Then a crash.

Then a scream.

A scream Liam recognized instantly.

Lana.

His eyes snapped open, and his blood ran cold.

"Lana," he muttered, barely more than a breath.

Ann grabbed his arm. "It’s too late! They already knew. They knew you’d come! You have to leave—leave me and leave her. Just go before it’s too late!"

"No!" Liam growled, voice rising.

He looked down at the chains around her wrists—thick, iron, bolted into the wall. Designed to hold her like an animal.

"Liam, they’re too strong," she whispered. "You can’t—"

CRACK!

Liam’s grip crushed the first chain like brittle candy. Metal groaned and snapped under his strength. Ann gasped in complete disbelief.

He turned and shattered the second one just as easily.

Her arms dropped free.

She stood frozen in shock, staring at him like he was something else entirely.

Liam knelt, grabbed the metal around her ankles—CRACK, CRACK—and the bindings were gone. The shattered remains clattered to the floor.

"Can you run?" he asked, meeting her stunned gaze.

She blinked once, twice, then nodded slowly. "I think... yes."

"Good." He grabbed her hand. "We’re not leaving anyone behind."

Without another word, he pulled her with him, sprinting back down the hallway toward where Lana had gone. His heart pounded like a war drum. Every step felt like the countdown to a disaster he might already be too late to stop.

The mansion’s silence was gone now.