Darius stood among the bodies, his expression carved from stone. Blood covered the corridor floor, pooling around the fallen attackers like macabre artwork. The smell of copper and violence hung thick in the recycled air.He pulled out his phone, blood from his knuckles smearing slightly on the screen, and dialed Douglas Canor."War God?" Douglas answered immediately. "Are you alright? We heard reports of fighting in the detention wing—""I'm fine," Darius interrupted curtly. "What's the update on Richardson's family? Has the protection detail reported in?"There was a pause—the kind of silence that communicated bad news before words did."War God, the team arrived at 247 Maple Street as ordered," Douglas said carefully. "They conducted a full sweep of the property. The house was empty. Completely empty. No signs of the family. No signs of struggle or forced entry. It's like they were never there."Darius's jaw tightened. "Or like the address was false from the beginning.""That's our

Emma stood before Josh in the empty training hall, her posture still submissive but her eyes carrying a sharpness that hadn't been there moments before.The timid scholarship student facade was cracking, revealing something harder underneath."I can help you," Emma said, her voice soft but carrying an edge of confidence. "I can get Alessia exactly where you want her. In your bed, compliant, broken of that ridiculous pride she clings to so desperately."Josh's eyebrow raised with interest. "Can you now? And how exactly would you accomplish what I couldn't?""Because she trusts me," Emma explained. "Or at least, she did before today. But trust can be rebuilt. Manipulated. I know how to play the concerned friend, the worried companion. I can isolate her from her support systems, make her doubt her own judgment, position her exactly where you need her to be."She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "I've done it before, you know. Made people do things th

Josh's face transformed as he watched the video, his earlier arrogance melting away like wax near flame. His expression darkened—not with embarrassment or shame, but with cold, dangerous fury. The kind of fury that came from realizing you'd been outmaneuvered by someone you'd considered beneath your notice.The atmosphere in the training hall shifted instantly. What had been a relatively casual confrontation suddenly felt lethal.The two trainers—Carl and Marcus, Josh's personal enforcers—immediately sensed the change in their employer's demeanor. They moved without being told, closing in on Emma from both sides, their postures shifting from casual observation to active threat assessment.Within seconds, Emma was surrounded. Carl positioned himself behind her, blocking her exit route. Marcus moved to her right, his hand hovering near the concealed weapon he carried. The circle tightened like a noose, making it clear that if Josh gave the word, Emma wouldn't make it out of this hall al

Josh's face contorted with rage, his features twisting into something almost inhuman.His eyes bore into Emma with such intense hatred that if looks could kill, she would have dropped dead on the spot.The veins in his neck stood out prominently, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack from the pressure."You—" he started, his voice a low growl that promised violence. "You have no idea what you've just done. No idea who you're threatening."Emma felt a flutter of fear in her chest—a natural response to the murderous intent radiating from Josh like heat from a furnace.Her heart rate increased. Her palms grew slightly sweaty.Every survival instinct screamed at her to back down, apologize, run.But she held her ground.Because she did have the upper hand. And she knew it.The video had been a lucky accident—if you could call witnessing potential manslaughter "lucky."Emma had been walking home from her evening shift at the library that night, cutting through the

Josh stood there for a long moment, his face still contorted with fury, but his eyes were calculating now. The rage was giving way to cold pragmatism—the survival instinct of someone who'd grown up in a world where deals and compromises were currency."Fine," Josh said through gritted teeth. "You want cooperation? You want partnership? Then let's be clear about the terms."Emma's posture relaxed slightly, sensing victory. "I'm listening.""You help me get Alessia," Josh said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not just into my bed—I want her broken. Completely broken. I want that smug, self-righteous attitude of hers shattered into pieces. I want her begging, humiliated, destroyed."His eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction. "She embarrassed me. Made me look weak in front of everyone. Called me pathetic, worthless, said I was nothing without my father's money. Nobody talks to me like that and walks away unscathed.""Consider it done," Emma said calmly. "I'll break her piece by piece. St