They’d come to Harri Lynch’s atelier for two things: flawless tailoring and discretion. Harri Lynch was famous for turning simple fabric into statements — and for treating high-profile clients like family. Today, the goal was two custom skirt suits for Selena, something crisp and powerful for the upcoming factory launches.Harri himself greeted them, warm and efficient. He chatted while he fetched his measuring tape and sketches, then asked with a conspiratorial smile, “Selena, let’s take your measurements. It’ll only take a few minutes.”Selena flushed — partly from the attention, partly from the idea of being measured after so long. “It’s been a while,” she admitted, twisting a ring on her finger.Harri lowered his voice, indulgent. “We need precise numbers. But our female fitters have stepped out to lunch. I don’t want anyone else measuring you for accuracy — and for comfort. Is your husband okay to help?”Selena’s face went another shade red. Jaden’s expression never changed; he o

The few men left standing were trembling, their weapons quivering in their hands. None of them dared to take another step forward. The confident sneers they wore earlier had long vanished, replaced with wide-eyed fear.All of them turned toward their leader — Tobin Jacobs.But Tobin himself was frozen. His hands twitched at his sides, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.That man… that monster… had dismantled his men like they were nothing.Jaden hadn’t even looked serious — no strained muscles, no heavy breathing, no wasted movement. His calm, unbothered demeanor only made him more terrifying. It was as if none of this mattered to him. As if he were merely stretching his legs after lunch.He didn’t fight like a man struggling to survive. He moved like a king swatting at flies.Tobin’s pride twisted painfully in his gut.He had fought countless battles and carved his name into the underworld with blood. People called him the Hundred

Finley was so furious that even the water around him rippled. He slammed his palm on the edge of the hot spring and snarled, “What an arrogant bastard. I will never kneel before him—nor will the Ortegas ever retire!”The words echoed through the steamy room like a vow of war.But before the echo faded, another voice cut through the air—low, cold, and dripping with death.“Then today will be the last day on earth for you and the Ortega family.”The laughter and chatter in the spa died instantly. The two women beside Finley froze, their smiles vanishing. Tobin’s head jerked toward the door, and even the bodyguards, hardened men who’d seen countless battles, flinched at that voice.Finley’s expression twisted into a snarl. “Who the hell is that?”The sliding door creaked open.Steam billowed out into the hallway, and through it strode a figure—broad-shouldered, calm, eyes sharp enough to slice through the haze. Behind him came Kaelus Sablee, Morix Sable, and the rest of the Elite Eight,

Finley was completely dumbfounded by Jaden’s attitude. The air in the spa seemed to freeze over. The name Leon Nagger—the King of the South—was one that made even seasoned warlords shudder. But Jaden? He didn’t even blink. Finley’s mouth twitched, unsure if he’d just met the bravest man alive… or the stupidest. Was Jaden ignorant of what that name meant? Or was he simply fearless to the point of madness? “What about the King of the South?” Jaden said lightly, almost amused. “Even if he were standing here in person, if I told him to kneel—he wouldn’t dare remain standing.” The silence that followed was deafening. Finley, Tobin, and the rest of their men froze mid-breath, eyes wide, disbelief painted across their faces. This man—this lone wolf who had just waltzed into their stronghold—had openly declared himself above Leon Nagger. Tobin’s hands trembled at his sides. “He… he’s insane,” he muttered under his breath. Finley’s face contorted in fury and disbelief. “You ar

“Go see the King of the South tonight,” George urged, his voice thin but urgent. “Tell him the Ortegas will give half our assets if he helps wipe out Jaden Rift.”Zander’s jaw set. “I’ll go tonight,” he said, and he left with a small convoy that cut across the moonlit roads.The Nagger mansion rose like a citadel where the sea met the mountain: terraced gardens sloping down to private cliffs, lanterns blinking in the dark, marble statues watching over an entryway that smelled faintly of incense and old money. Inside, the main hall was more palace than home — carved rosewood, silk banners, and an atmosphere that made men measure their words before they spoke them.At the center of the hall sat Leon Nagger, the man the entire southern region called “the King.” He was shorter than legend made him out to be, a little under 170 centimeters, slightly round in the middle now with age—and yet his presence filled the room as if he were ten times taller. His smile was slow and almost indulgent