“Excuse me?” she said, voice sharp enough to cut through the air.“You heard me.” Johnny leaned forward, smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. “I’ll work with you if you let me spank that ass of yours.”Silence.He held her gaze. “Even if it’s just once.”He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just said it.That was all he needed — one spank — and Silver Crest Holdings would be his. A whole damn company in exchange for one reckless, borderline suicidal favor.Detective Rhea stood there for a long moment, motionless, the file still clutched in her hand. Her mind was trying — and failing — to process the level of audacity she’d just been handed.No one had ever spoken to her like that.Not in the academy.Not in the precinct.Not even her husband, who also wore the badge, and knew better than to push her buttons.Detective Rhea Valen — thirty-two, cold as marble, built on discipline and control.A woman whose entire career was defined by the rules she never broke — and the men she made sure d

Johnny turned to Detective Rhea, and the look on her face told him everything he needed to know. She had no idea it was a private club.Right in front of them stood the human mountain guarding the door — a bouncer so wide he could’ve been mistaken for a refrigerator in a leather jacket.“You’re blocking the road,” the bouncer grunted, voice low and ugly.Johnny slid his hands into his pockets, unfazed. “How much would it cost?”“What?” The bouncer blinked. Rhea blinked. They even said it in unison, as if neither could quite believe he’d just said that out loud.“How much would it cost for us to get in?” Johnny asked again, calm as a preacher and twice as smug.The bouncer’s lips twisted into something between amusement and disgust. “Entry access isn’t for sale to the likes of you.”He swung his fist — a thick, angry blur — straight for Johnny’s face.But Johnny moved faster. He caught the punch mid-air, fingers closing around the man’s knuckles like a trap. For a brief second, the wor

The music behind them seemed to fade for a moment. Rhea froze. Johnny tilted his head slightly, that familiar grin spreading again—the kind that said he wasn’t sure what was coming next, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.“After you,” he said, his hand gesturing for the guards to lead the way.He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. Grabbing the still-shocked detective by the waist, Johnny followed as they were led behind the velvet curtains. The lights dimmed. A narrow hallway stretched before them, humming faintly with the bass from the club above. At the end of it was a small elevator, guarded by another man in black.Rhea took a deep breath, her mind racing. She contemplated whether to call for backup. Everything about this screamed trap. But when she turned to Johnny, the quiet confidence in his eyes steadied her nerves. Somehow, this reckless idiot made her believe they’d be fine.The elevator required a special key card, and the waiter inserted his with a practiced f

The walls weren’t painted but tiled in white, though most of them had long since been stained—splashes of red and brown that no amount of scrubbing could erase.The room was vast, stretching farther than the flickering lights could reach, filled with metallic tables—some bare, others occupied. The stainless steel gleamed beneath the harsh fluorescence, but even that couldn’t hide the streaks of red that ran down the legs and pooled on the floor.There were people working here—men and women in surgical robes and masks, their faces hidden, their movements mechanical. They moved from one table to the next, performing silent routines as if they were pieces of a larger machine. Scalpels clinked against metal trays. A suction machine whined softly in the corner. Johnny’s eyes swept the room. There were coolers—industrial-grade, labelled not with organs but with codenames, like Project Argus, Batch 14, N-Host 02. A faint mist rose from one that had been left open, a gloved hand reaching ins

“Rhea, I don’t know what you think is going on, but I swear—you’ve got it all wrong.”Johnny’s hands were up, palms open, voice trembling between exhaustion and disbelief.“Don’t you dare call me by my first name, you vile monster!” she snapped.“Monster?” Johnny’s brows drew together. “I’m on your side.”“On my side?” Rhea barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “That was before I found out you’re a human organ-harvesting surgeon.”Her gun didn’t waver. The barrel glinted under the cold fluorescent light. The boss just stood there, silent amusement plastered across his face like he was watching a live theater performance—his favorite kind, where everyone bleeds in the final act.“I’m not the Surgeon,” Johnny shouted back, voice cracking through the thick air. “For God’s sake, you have to believe me!”“There’s no point in lying,” she said, her tone firm but her hands trembling slightly. “I’ve seen enough. You’re not walking away from this.”“What?” Johnny blinked, trying to wrap his head