Tessa and Nyra sat tied to metal chairs in the center of a cold, rust-stained warehouse on the outskirts of Storm City. The smell of oil, mildew, and cigarette smoke hung thick in the air. Their wrists were bound tightly behind their backs with coarse rope, ankles shackled to the chair legs. Duct tape sealed their mouths, and black blindfolds robbed them of sight—but not sound.And what they heard made their blood run cold.Heavy boots scraped against the cracked concrete floor as a dozen men loomed nearby, all clad in black tactical gear, faces masked except for their hungry, gleaming eyes.“Damn…” one of them muttered, his voice thick with heat. “Look at this one. Skin like milk. You could squeeze water from it, no joke.”Another let out a breathless chuckle. “And her legs… shit, they’re smoother than anything I’ve ever seen. So soft, so clean. Just imagine running your hands up—”“Shut it,” a third snapped, though his own voice trembled with restraint. “We’re just watching them. Th

The moment the men in black saw the man's face clearly, their expressions shattered.Pupils shrank. Breath caught in their throats. It was as if Death himself had stepped into the room.Their limbs went cold. Knees buckled. Fingers twitched uncontrollably on the grips of their weapons.Their instincts screamed louder than any command ever had: Run.But it was already too late.Even Hagon—brutal, seasoned, and merciless—felt his composure slipping like sand through his fingers. Still, he forced his spine to stay straight, jaw clenched tight.But the dagger in his hand wavered.With a last breath of false courage, he lunged forward and grabbed Tessa, yanking her upright. His blade pressed tightly against the side of her neck, biting into skin. A thin red line formed beneath the pressure.“Don’t take another step!” he shouted hoarsely, voice cracking with strain. “I’ll do it! I’ll kill her right here!”The other masked men scrambled to mimic him, pressing trembling swords and daggers aga

Tessa stood frozen, the words echoing in her ears like a thunderclap.Devote yourself to me.She’d never imagined the Supreme General would make such a demand—especially not to her. The blood drained from her face, and for a second, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded as she tried to make sense of it.“I… I’m flattered by your favor, Supreme General,” she said, forcing the words past her tightening throat, “but I’m already married. I cannot accept this.”Her voice shook slightly despite her effort to sound composed.Countless women dreamed of catching the attention of the Supreme General. Being even a mistress to such a man meant wealth, power, influence—an unshakable position at the top of society. A flicker of that thought crossed her mind, uninvited. She imagined what it would mean to be his, to walk beside a man feared by nations.For a heartbeat, it thrilled her.But she pushed the thought aside.No matter how lofty the offer, she wasn’t the type to be bought. Her pride would

“Exactly.” Brielle tossed her hair back with a smirk. “This world isn’t about fighting and killing anymore. It’s about power—real power. Money. Status. Mr. Iron could burn through millions in a minute and not even blink.”She crossed her arms and tilted her chin smugly toward Adam.“But you?” Her voice dripped with scorn. “What can you do? Be a bodyguard? Pull in, what, twenty grand a month on a good day? That’s barely enough to buy the strap of one of my designer bags. Pathetic.”She scoffed, her laughter mocking. “You’re not a man—you’re a joke in last season’s shoes.”Adam’s gaze didn’t flinch. His voice was low, steady—deadly calm.“You talk like wealth makes you someone.” He took a step forward. “But all I see is someone desperately trying to matter.”Brielle’s face twisted, but before she could respond, Trent stepped in, fire in his eyes.“Enough.” He slapped a gold card on the table with theatrical flair. “Adam, who’s trash isn’t decided by cheap insults. This—” he jabbed a fin

The group rolled out in two luxury vehicles, weaving through Storm City traffic toward Hollow Reach Hotel. Even with the tension lingering in the air, no one dared speak against Trent’s decision. He had the swagger, the money, and the arrogance to back it all up—or so they believed.In the backseat of the second car, Adam sat quietly, his eyes half-lidded, phone resting loosely in his palm. His thumb moved with casual precision as he tapped out a message.[Adam]: “Cain. Book me a private room at Hollow Reach. Gerald’s birthday was ruined, and I’ll take responsibility for it.”He paused, staring at the message for a second before hitting send. Cain wouldn’t question him. He never did.Gerald wasn’t family by blood. And truthfully, the old man hadn’t been anything but cold toward him since day one. Still… he was Tessa’s grandfather. And Adam wasn't the kind of man to leave things unsettled—especially not when others were watching for weakness.This was about respect. Quiet dominance. Ma