Ethan woke up choking on smoke.For a second he didn’t know where he was, or why the air tasted like fire and old stone. His eyes opened to flickering light and shadow, and the first thing he saw was a ceiling carved with shapes that looked like teeth and wings.He tried to sit up fast, but his body refused. Pain ran down the back of his head and into his spine like a hot wire. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and forced himself to look around.The room was huge, built from dark stone blocks, the kind that held cold even near heat. Strange markings covered the walls in long lines and sharp symbols. In the middle, a bonfire burned inside a circle of stones, sending sparks up like tiny warnings.Ethan looked down at himself.He was lying on a thick woolen cloak. His wrists were free, but his arms felt heavy. Dark paint marked his face and forearms in patterns he didn’t recognize.“What the hell…” he muttered.A drumbeat rolled through the chamber.Ethan’s head turned to

Ethan’s patience finally cracked.“This is a mistake,” he said, his voice was tight as he stood with help from the elder. “You’re making a very bad decision, Selene. You don’t know what you’re tying yourself to.”Selene studied him without blinking. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”Ethan shook his head. “No. You’re acting on instinct, not consequence. Marriage isn’t protection. It’s exposure. You are going to expose what you worked hard to build. Including all of this.” Ethan referred to the traditional practice he was in the middle of right now.Her lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in it. “You still think I’m guessing,” she said. “That’s the problem.”The fire popped loudly, and Selene stepped closer, dropping the last layer of patience she had been wearing. “You are Ethan Ward,” she said calmly. “CEO of the Xavier Group. And grandson of Magnus Xavier.”The words hit him harder than any blow.Ethan’s chest tightened. “That’s not funny,” he said, though his voice betraye

Dr Hilton’s voice came out thin, like it had scraped against something sharp inside him.“What did you say?” he whispered again.Aurelio Grande didn’t blink. He stood with his golden cane planted on the stained floor, the young tiger’s leash wrapped once around his wrist. The animal stared at the room like it understood it. Grande lowered his voice, but the words still landed hard.“Ethan Ward is married to the White Witch of Velmora.”Hilton stared at him as if he was waiting for the punchline. His gloved hand tightened around the sealed container, and the preservative liquid trembled inside.“No way,” Hilton said, and his tone carried pure annoyance, like disbelief was safer than fear. “How did that happen?”“They got bonded yesterday,” Grande replied. “I don’t know how she knew his real identity. I only know it’s true.”Hilton’s jaw flexed. He set the container down on the metal table with a careful, controlled motion, like if he slammed it, his world would crack with it. His eyes

It was one week since Ethan's marriage to Selene. He made his way to Titan Crest headquarters and upon reaching there, the first thing Ethan smelled was crude oil and hot steel.Dock Nine was alive in a way that made the air feel crowded. Forklifts hummed as they carried sealed containers toward the Iron Meridian which was Selene's ship. Men in reflective vests shouted numbers over the noise. Scanners beeped, chains clanked, and the deck lights threw hard shadows across the wet concrete.“Move it!” the dock supervisor barked, pointing at the lane. “Two more loads before the final seal. Don’t slow down!”A man in a clean shirt and expensive shoes stood near a clipboard, watching like a hungry investor. Benson Ralford didn’t look like a billionaire, but he carried himself like a man who thought money could bend rules. He paced twice, then snapped at a worker.“Careful!” Benson shouted. “That container costs more than your whole life.”The worker muttered an apology and pushed harder.

Ethan stood near the boundary line, hands relaxed at his sides. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He just watched the ship struggle against a force it couldn’t move.Then the dock lights caught something coming down the access road.Headlights.Many of them.A convoy flooded the lane toward Dock Nine, fast and deliberate, filling the night with hard beams and flashing signals. Workers froze where they stood. The security man’s baton slipped slightly in his grip.Benson Ralford took one step back, his mouth parting in confusion.“What is this?” he whispered.Ethan’s gaze stayed steady as the first vehicle drew close enough for the insignia to be seen. His voice was quiet, but it landed like a verdict.“Now,” he said, “we do it properly.”The convoy surged closer, and the dock became a trap made of light.The sirens cut through Dock Nine before anyone could think of running.Blue and white lights spilled across the concrete, washing the ship, the containers, and every frozen face in ha