Truly, everyone in the ICU who heard Ren Carter’s words were left in confusion. “What’s a demon blade?” “Is the Headmaster really a Doctor too?” Some nurses in the unit did very poor jobs masking their awe and admiration, expressing their desire with every dreamy sigh and whispered compliments. “Wow, he’s so cool.”“His wife is so lucky.”Ren lifted his hand and silenced the questions and compliments that flew around him and outside the ICU. Then he proceeded to lower the blade—which was really just a surgical scalpel—to Todo’s face, ignoring the gasps and murmurs of surprise. Elder Kenji stepped forward and grabbed Ren’s wrists, forcing his hand to a stop. “I hate to be the one to stop you, Headmaster. But you're not authorized to operate on a patient.”“Oh?” Ren cocked his head. “But I'm a Doctor…I just mentioned.”“To the best of our knowledge,” Elder Kenji’s voice dropped to a whisper, “you used to be a medical intern. It does not equate to being a Doctor. And this…” his eyes

Zara Meadows was startled for a brief moment. Maybe by the sudden invasion of her space. Or the electric feel of Ren’s finger against her cheek. She was just spellbound and momentarily out of breath before she remembered that he was a strange man…a traitor who stole Hana away for a full week without disclosing their whereabouts, or informing her family. He did not know it, but he had greatly piqued the interest of the Blackthorn family. Now, they were curious to know about the man who would dare steal their only daughter away. Zara grabbed Ren’s hand and pushed him away just as the elevator dinged on arrival. A look of disappointment crossed his face as he realized it was his floor. It was time to move away. As the doors slid open, Zara cleared her throat and tried to slide away from him, as his large frame made it difficult to see anything else but his chest. “Uhm, excuse me.”Reluctantly, he backed a few steps away and smiled at her. “How about a few drinks later, Ms. Meadows?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re honored to have two giants of the game with us tonight!” A commentator's voice boomed from the large flat screen TV in the living room. “Give it up for Madrid and Saint-German teams! Come onnn!”Applause and cheers exploded both on TV and in the living room. The cramped space was filled with suited men hanging in every corner, watching the players on TV stream into the stadium. One of them grabbed a bottle of Heineken beer from the top of a fridge. He was big and red-skinned, with scars across his face that made him appear twice formidable and ugly. “Whoo! Come on! I bet ten grand on the Madrid team. Better watch out for those fuckers.”He shucked bottles with another colleague and tossed the drink down his large gut. “Drinks on me tonight if the Madrid team wins!” someone else yelled and others cheered in response. This living room was just a small part of a dwelling place that should be considered a den to humans who were more or less preys of the