Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 64

Out of Reach

: Out of Reach

Chaos erupted outside Raeburn Police Department building.

A crowd of screaming fans had gathered. Their voices were blending into a chaotic storm of outrage, disbelief, and desperation. The sidewalks were packed, stretching down the street, signs waving in the air with bold, defiant letters.

“FREE ADRIAN BLACKWOOD!”

“THIS IS A SETUP!”

“AMN’S GOLDEN BOY WOULDN’T HURT A FLY!”

Some were crying, others were chanting his name. Many held up their phones, live–streaming the scene, demanding answers.

A young woman clutched a photo of Adrian from one of his past films, her mascara streaking as she sobbed into the camera.” This is so wrong! He’s an actor! Not a criminal! There’s no proof he was in the mafia! Where’s the evidence?!”

A reporter tried to push through the crowd, shoving a microphone toward the police officers guarding the entrance. “Sergeant! The public demands answers! Was Adrian Blackwood really involved in organized crime, or is this some elaborate scheme to frame him?”

The conspiracy theories were already forming, spreading across the internet like wildfire.

“This is just another entertainment smear campaign.”

“He must have pissed off the wrong people.”

“They’re trying to silence him–he must’ve known something he wasn’t supposed to!”

Meanwhile, the officers were scrambling inside the station.

“This is getting out of control,” one muttered, adjusting the grip on his baton. His uniform was already damp with sweat. “At this rate, we’ll have riots on our hands.”

Another officer cursed under his breath, watching the chaos unfold through the windows. “If we don’t handle this now, we’ll lose control of the situation.”

But before the police could act, before they could even attempt to intervene, the sharp, jarring screech of tires tore through the air.

A convoy of sleek black cars sped down the road with engines roaring like a pack of beasts descending upon their prey.

The crowd instinctively parted, murmurs rippling through them as the vehicles came to an abrupt stop right in front of the station. Doors unlocked in perfect synchronization that sent a ripple of unease through the already–unsettled protesters.

For a long moment, silence reigned.

Then-

Ivan Balthazar stepped out.

He was tall and commanding. His black topcoat billowed slightly as he moved. With slow, deliberate hands, he removed his sunglasses, revealing his piercing emerald–green eyes that seemed to glow under the harsh daylight.

For a man whose presence exuded effortless control, his gaze alone sent shivers down spines. It was the kind of look that silenced rooms, that made men second–guess their own worth in his presence.

Even the crowd which was rowdy just seconds before, fell into an unnatural hush.

Then suddenly, he spoke in his accent.

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“You fools.

His voice boomed, slicing through the heavy silence like a whip. The sheer authority in his tone sent fear through the gathering who displayed theit blind devotion moments ago.

“Do you not see the favor we have done you?” His words rang within edge of mockery, his emerald gaze sweeping over the crowd with the kind of disgust one reserved for insects beneath their shoe. “You stand here, screaming for a man you do not even know.”

Ivan took a slow step forward, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement.

“You chant his name, demand his freedom, tight for him as if he were some fallen saint.” His lips curled in amusement, but his eyes remained cold. “But tell me do any of you truly know Adrian Blackwood?”

Murmurs rose among the crowd. Unease slithered through them like a shadow, creeping into the edges of their conviction.

“You see only what you want to see,” Ivan continued, his voice lowering, forcing them to listen even closer. “You see the face of a man you are pleased to see. A man made of carefully curated lies fabricated for the cameras, wrapped in a persona tailored for your consumption.”

His gaze darkened.

“But you… are blind.”

The words rang out, final and damning.

Then, Ivan let the weight of his next revelation drop on them like a guillotine blade..

“Adrian Blackwood is the son of Azazel Montgomery.”

At the mention of the name, the reaction was immediate.

The crowd instantly froze and whispers began to accumulate.

Azazel Montgomery.

A name that carried nightmares.

“The man who has been stealing your women and children,” Ivan continued mercilessly. “The man who has sold them like livestock into the black markets. The man whose hands are drenched in the blood of innocent lives.” He let the words settle, let the horror sink into their minds. “And you want to worship his heir?”

Disbelief warred with fear in the eyes of those standing before him Some shook their heads, unwilling to accept it.

“Lies,” someone whispered, their voice shaking. “That… That can’t be true.”

Ivan tilted his head slightly, studying them with something akin to pity. “You don’t believe me?”

The crowd bristled, hesitating between clinging to their devotion and the seed of doubt that had been forcefully planted in their minds.

Ivan smirked. He raised a hand–a simple, effortless gesture.

“…if you do not believe me, then perhaps, you will believe him.”

With that, another door swung open.

And a second figure emerged.

Miles Carter who was Adrian Blackwood’s manager, walked out of the car with a determined look on his face. After hearing what had happened to Noelle, Miles‘ conscience could no longer hide the truth.

As Ivan caught the look in Miles‘ eyes, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Without another word, he stepped back

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into his en as the smooth leather dont shut behind him. A brief no was all he gave before the engine purred to life, and the convoy of black vehicles rolled away, disappearing into the city strets.

The moment they were gone, an uneasy silence settled over the police officers.

They stood frozen while their rigid postures betrayed their internal conflict. They had been trained to handle riots, criminals, even the occasional high–profile scandal. But those men the ones who had just arrived and left like ghosts were beyond their

jurisdiction

They weren’t the kind of people you simply detained.

Because those men weren’t under the law.

They were the law in their own right.

The officers exchanged wary glances, their hands twitching near their holsters, not out of a need for action but out of sheer instinct. The presence of Ivan Balthazar alone had been enough to unsettle them, but the moment they recognized the man inside one of his convoy, they knew–whatever game was being played, it was beyond their reach.

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