Malina’s face twisted into a scowl, her red-painted lips curling back to reveal teeth set in a snarl."Empty threats from a dog in a cage," she spat, though her hand trembled slightly as she gripped her smoker. "Break him. I want his pride shattered before his bones."The lead Shadow lunged, the electrified baton humming with a lethal, high-pitched whine as it arced toward Zarek’s chest.Zarek didn’t flinch.Instead, he took a deep, rattling breath, his chest expanding until the pink silk of his ruined shirt began to tear.The sound of the iron chains changed from the light clink of jewelry to the ominous, stressed creak of a bridge about to collapse.The pink paint began to flake off the metal in dry, dusty scales, revealing the cold, black blood-iron beneath.The heavy iron links rattled with a violent, rhythmic tremor, the sound echoing through the pink chamber.Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!Each link strained, metal groaning and warping as Zarek’s muscles coiled and swelled with

The lead Shadow tightened his grip on his ceramic blade, his knuckles white beneath tactical gloves. Even with the evidence of Zarek’s god-like strength littering the floor in pink-painted shards, years of cold conditioning held. They were the Ashbourne Shadows; they didn't flee, and they didn't fail."You’re not going anywhere near her," the leader hissed, his voice a jagged edge of forced courage. He dropped into a low combat stance, signaling the others to flank. "You’re a freak of nature, we see that. But you’re still just one man. We won’t let you take another step toward Madame Malina."The other three Shadows moved in a synchronized blur, their boots silent on the pink velvet. They circled him, weapons humming, searching for an opening in a man who seemed to have none.Zarek didn't even turn to face them. He stood perfectly still in the center of the circle, his eyes fixed on Malina. She remained huddled against the wall, her fingers digging painfully into Aurelia’s scalp

It was over before the sound reached Malina’s ears.With two clinical, explosive strikes, a palm to one man’s chest and a backhand to the other’s temple… Zarek ended the fight.The guards were launched backward as if struck by a freight train. Their bodies slammed into the far wall with bone-jarring force, cracking the plaster. They slumped to the floor, completely unconscious, mouths hanging open in a silent, permanent gasp of shock.Zarek stood alone in the center of the room.The only sound was the soft dripping of blood.Drip.Drip.Drip.Drip.Blood fell from Zarek’s chin to the floor.Without wasting any more time, he turned slowly toward Malina. There were no guards left. No chains. No tricks.Malina stood pinned against the wall, face ashen, chest heaving as the realization set in: the Pink Room had become her tomb.“Now,” Zarek whispered as he stepped toward her. “Where were we?”Her back hit the wall hard enough to rattle the framed portraits of her victims. The smug, un

Before she could blink, his hands were already moving through her toys.He pulled open drawers, extracting lengths of heavy steel chains, leather restraints, and high-grade industrial handcuffs, the very tools she had intended to use on him.“What are you doing?” Malina shrieked, panic cracking her voice. “Stay away from those! Those are mine! Get away from my things!”Zarek said nothing. He gathered the cold metal into his arms, the clinking links sounding like a countdown.Her bravado was shattered. Seeing the mechanical focus in his eyes, Malina began to crawl toward the door, silk tearing as it dragged across the floor.She didn’t get far.Zarek became a blur. He caught her by the ankle and hauled her back toward the center of the room.She shrieked, kicking and clawing, but he handled her with the terrifying efficiency of a man securing a cargo load.He didn’t just cuff her.He began to weave a web of steel around her.First, he snapped a heavy shackle around her wrist and bolted

He had a shock of messy, vibrant red hair that looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in days, giving him a wild, notorious energy. He wasn’t dressed like a soldier; instead, he wore a loose dark vest over a scarred chest.A jagged white scar cut across his jaw, a permanent souvenir from a fight he’d clearly won.Despite the danger clinging to him, a lopsided, playful grin tugged at his mouth. He looked less like a bodyguard and more like a high-end mercenary who enjoyed his work a little too much.“You called, Boss?” the man asked, his voice gravelly yet lighthearted.He leaned against the reinforced doorframe, arms crossed, nodding toward the blood smeared across Zarek’s skin.“Looks like you had a fun night.”Zarek didn’t smile back. He tossed the Sullivan deed onto the desk, the heavy paper sliding across the polished wood.“The Ashbournes are done,” Zarek said. “Now we move on to the Sullivans.”The red-haired man nodded. “I see.”Zarek stepped aside and walked past him. The red