“What do you want with him?” Miss Chaudhry gasped, her voice breaking as panic clawed its way up her throat. Her back slammed against the steel door. With shaking fingers, she kept jabbing the unlock button, once, twice, again and again, until her nails began to ache. The decorated panel blinked red each time, stubborn, unresponsive, almost mocking her desperation. It refused to open. She kicked the door hard, hurting her foot. Before she could turn, Draven’s hand closed around her neck. Her breath vanished instantly. Her feet lifted off the floor, her body swaying helplessly in the air like a broken marionette. Her hands flew to his wrist, clawing, scraping, but it was useless. His grip tightened with terrifying ease. She gasped, her mouth opening and closing, lungs burning as she struggled to draw in air that refused to come. “There’s no need asking,” Draven said calmly, a slow smirk curving his lips. His eyes were cold, empty of mercy. “You’ll see it yourself.” Wit

“Ahhh!!” Miss Chaudhry’s scream pierced the hall like a knife, the sound raw with pain and terror as one of the men yanked the dagger from her arm. Blood gushed, and she collapsed to the cold floor, clutching the wound. Her eyes were wide, swimming with disbelief and anguish.The scream didn’t just echo—it ignited something in Marco. His face darkened, his veins bulging, hands trembling around the hilt of his sword. Fury radiated off him in palpable waves, a storm contained in a single body. He tightened his grip, jaw locked, and launched himself at Draven.Draven didn’t flinch. He had seen this type of rage countless times, and it was almost entertaining. He remained leaned against the wall casually, one eyebrow raised, letting Marco’s initial charge build the tension.Marco swung first, striking with another dagger, aimed with brutal precision for Draven’s chest. The sound of metal slicing through air was sharp. Draven shifted his weight slightly, letting the blade glance off his sh

Dragna knelt beside Miss Chaudhry, lifting her as if she were made entirely of glass. Her weight was negligible in his arms, but the sight of her blood-soaked arm wrapped in torn fabric made his blood boil. Dust clung to her face, smudging her features, and the faint tremor of her body only fueled the fire building in him. Rage surged, wild and untamable, pushing through every vein and nerve.He looked up, eyes bloodshot and wide with fury, and fixed his gaze on Draven.“You!!!” His roar thundered through the room, echoing through the walls.Without hesitation, Dragna surged forward, each step a force of sheer determination, his muscles coiling, ready to crush Draven’s face beneath his fists. But Draven was calm, almost lazily tapping his foot once. Time itself seemed to shatter around Dragna.He froze. Not entirely, his eyes darted, trying to track what just happened, but everything else stopped. The armed men, standing ready to intervene, were suspended in mid-step, trapped by an in

Draven stood at the center of his estate’s grand hall. The chandeliers above cast steady light over the polished marble floor. Before him stood forty women in neat scrubs, identification cards hanging from their necks. They stood in straight lines, hands folded behind their backs, waiting.His presence filled the room without effort.“Take care of all of them,” Draven said, his voice calm but commanding. “If they need anything beyond what’s in the store room, relay it to Kylen immediately.”“Yes, sir!” they answered in unison.They were nurses, all of forty of them. They were brought in to tend to the women rescued from Dragna’s villa. As they had vanished from Dragna's villa, they appeared in a huge room in Draven's estate. The nurses dispersed with disciplined steps.Moments later, a group of uniformed soldiers marched in behind them. Each carried cartons stacked with clothes, toiletries, blankets, sanitary supplies—everything necessary to restore some dignity to lives stripped bar

In a room buried deep within Draven’s private quarters, blue flames leaked from beneath the heavy door frame. They did not flicker weakly like candlelight; they burned with a steady, unnatural brilliance, creeping across the marble tiles of the hallway. The glow was so intense that the corridor outside shimmered in cold blue light, as though submerged under an ocean at midnight. Shadows stretched long and thin across the walls, trembling from the pulse of the energy within.No soldiers stood guard there. None dared. No housekeepers cleaned that wing. Even Kylen, was forbidden from stepping foot beyond that corridor. It was not merely a rule. It was a warning. The air itself felt heavier near that door, pressing against the lungs of anyone foolish enough to linger too long.Inside the room sat Draven.He was on the bare floor, legs crossed, spine straight as a blade. The chamber around him was stripped of decoration—no furniture, no ornaments, nothing that could distract or break. Onl