2025-10-17 18:29:23Brandon managed to get Jessica Marion to the nearest hotel so he could help her.
As he sat at the edge of the bed, he pressed a sterilized blade gently against Jessica’s wrist, letting out controlled drops of blood and guiding the poisoned heat out of her system. His movements were precise and steady. This was not his first time administering such treatment. The setup was simple, yet something about it felt intimate. His hand rested over hers as her breathing steadied, rising and falling in quiet rhythm. The faint color returning to her cheeks told him that the toxin was fading. --- When Jessica woke, her head pounded, and her body felt oddly weak. She stirred, confused by the unfamiliar ceiling above her. She could tell that she was in a hotel. Slowly, she sat up and froze. Red traces streaked across her arms and collarbone, faint but visible against her pale skin. Horror jolted through her chest. What… what happened to me? Her mind flashed back to the leering faces of those three men, their laughter, their blades, and then—darkness. Her breath caught. No… it can’t be. I… I was violated! Her hands shook as she pulled the sheets tightly around her. The sound of the door handle turning made her look up. Brandon entered carrying a glass of water in one hand. He hadn’t expected her to be awake yet. Before he could speak, Jessica’s eyes filled with fury. Without even registering his face properly, she grabbed the nearest object which was a vase from the nightstand—and hurled it at him with all her strength. “YOU BASTARD! RAPIST!” she screamed. The vase shattered against the wall behind him. Brandon had already ducked, making glass rain down onto the carpet. He straightened slowly, sighing. “So that’s the first thing you think of me?” Jessica’s chest heaved and her face still blotched with anger and fear. Brandon set the glass of water on the table, rubbing his forehead. “Before you lose your mind any further, why don’t you carefully recall what actually happened last night?” Her eyes widened as she stared at him properly for the first time. She suddenly remembered that Brandon was the man at the cemetery who had kicked the dagger away and scared off her attackers. “You…” she stammered, her face flushing with confusion. “You were the one who… who saved me.” “Yes.” His tone was clipped. Jessica froze and her anger faded into sudden embarrassment. “Then… I—oh God.” Her voice cracked with her hand pressing to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I thought—” She stopped abruptly, remembering the heat flooding her veins and the way her consciousness had slipped away. She had been drugged! And yet—her clothes were intact, and her body… untouched. Her heart sank with dread. If he hadn’t done anything, then why was she covered in strange red marks? Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Did you… did you… do something to me?” Brandon let out a deep sigh, sounding tired and annoyed, then he turned to the door and called out, “Come in.” The door opened, and Joe his assistant, stepped inside, followed by a middle-aged doctor carrying a leather medical case. Both men greeted Brandon respectfully before turning their attention to Jessica. Jessica stiffened, utterly bewildered. The doctor approached her bedside with a polite bow. “Miss, may I?” Hesitant, she extended her wrist. The doctor checked her pulse with practiced fingers. A few moments later, he turned to Brandon with a nod. “Sir, your method was effective. The toxins have already been neutralized. With the bloodletting you performed, her condition is stable. She only needs to keep the wounds clean and avoid strain for a week.” Jessica’s head spun. Bloodletting? Brandon accepted the doctor’s words with a curt nod. He picked up his whiskey glass from the table and took a slow sip before speaking. “You see? Nothing happened to you.” His gaze was steady and unwavering. “You were drugged. After you fainted, I used bloodletting. Those red marks you’re so horrified by are simply the traces it left behind.” Jessica’s lips parted in shock and her cheeks burned in crimson that she wanted to melt into the floor. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, lowering her eyes. “I accused you unjustly. I… I didn’t know.” Brandon waved her apology away with a calm gesture. “It doesn’t matter. You were frightened. Anyone in your position would have panicked.” His voice was even. “Where’s your home?” Brandon asked, his tone more businesslike now. “I’ll have someone escort you back.” Her throat tightened as she lowered her head, twisting the sheet in her hands. “I… I don’t have one.”
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Chapter 186
Alexander lounged in his sprawling living room. The scent of expensive wine mingled with the faint aroma of freshly lit candles, creating an atmosphere of leisure and indulgence, the kind that suggested nothing in the world could disturb the man who ruled this space. He sat back comfortably in his plush leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a deep burgundy glass of aged wine resting loosely in his hand. He swirled the liquid slowly, watching the wine cling to the sides of the glass as though savoring the ritual more than the drink itself. Around him, his closest friends laughed lightly, their voices blending with the soft hum of background music. Their chatter echoed off the high walls, filled with careless amusement and easy confidence, but Alexander’s mind was not fully with them. He was already looking ahead. “Tonight,” he began at last, his voice smooth and controlled, cutting through the laughter with effortless authority. The room grew quieter as his friend
Chapter 185
The crash at the door shattered the calm of Brandon’s living room like a thunderclap, ripping through the quiet with sudden, violent force. One moment the space had been still, familiar, almost comforting. The next, it was chaos.Wood splintered. The hinges screamed under the strain. The door flew inward and slammed hard against the wall, rebounding with a dull thud that sent fragments skidding across the polished floor. Dust and sharp shards scattered in every direction. Brandon jerked to his feet instantly, the shock registering only for a fraction of a second before fury ignited hot and fast in his chest. His first thought wasn’t fear. It was outrage.This was his home.His space.And someone had just violated it.Two men stormed in through the broken doorway, filling it with their massive frames. They were built like walls—broad shoulders stretching their dark jackets tight, thick arms corded with muscle, hands already clenched into fists. Their faces were hard and unreadable, mar
Chapter 184
The decision was sealed the moment Alexander nodded.For a brief second, silence swallowed the living room. No one spoke. No one questioned what had just been agreed upon. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as though the room understood that something irreversible had been set in motion.Victor was the first to move.He reached for his phone without ceremony, his expression calm, almost bored, as if this were nothing more than a routine business call. There was no flicker of doubt in his eyes, no hesitation in his hands. Men like Victor had long ago learned to separate consequence from conscience. When power ruled, morality became something flexible—something adjusted when it became inconvenient.He stepped away from the group, turning his back slightly as he dialed a number saved without a name.The phone rang once.Twice.Then the call connected.“Cole,” Victor said evenly. “We have a job.”Miles away, Cole Riven leaned back in his chair, one boot propped against the edge of
Chapter 183
Alexander’s living room slowly regained its earlier rhythm, though the tension never fully left. The sharp scent of spilled wine still hung stubbornly in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of polished wood and expensive cologne. Somewhere outside, a car passed, its tires hissing softly against the road, a reminder that the world beyond these walls continued as normal. Inside, however, something had shifted. His friends drew closer together, their movements subtle but instinctive, as though proximity alone might restore the confidence that had cracked moments earlier.The shattered glass on the marble floor had been pushed aside, but the dark stain of wine remained, an unspoken reminder of how quickly certainty could break.One of them, Victor, was the first to speak. He leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing his arms with a scoff that sounded deliberately casual. “Honestly, Alex, those men were never up to the task,” he said dismissively. “You trusted the wrong people.
Chapter 182
Alexander froze where he stood. For a split second, he was convinced the voice coming from his phone was distorted, that the words had twisted themselves into something nonsensical. His mind rejected them outright. The laughter that had filled the room only moments earlier died instantly, cut off as if someone had slammed a door shut. The air felt heavier and charged. “What did you just say?” Alexander asked slowly. His tone was deceptively calm, too controlled, the kind of calm that came just before something broke. His eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles paled. “Repeat yourself.” On the other end of the line, the man hesitated. Alexander could hear labored breathing, uneven and strained, and beneath it, the faint, unmistakable sound of pain being suppressed. “Sir…” the man began, then paused, as if bracing himself. “I said Brandon Scott defeated us.” Alexander blinked. Once. Twice. Then he laughed. It was a short, disbelieving so
Chapter 181
Alexander lounged in his sprawling living room. The scent of expensive wine mingled with the faint aroma of freshly lit candles, creating an atmosphere of leisure and indulgence, the kind that suggested nothing in the world could disturb the man who ruled this space. He sat back comfortably in his plush leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a deep burgundy glass of aged wine resting loosely in his hand. He swirled the liquid slowly, watching the wine cling to the sides of the glass as though savoring the ritual more than the drink itself. Around him, his closest friends laughed lightly, their voices blending with the soft hum of background music. Their chatter echoed off the high walls, filled with careless amusement and easy confidence, but Alexander’s mind was not fully with them. He was already looking ahead. “Tonight,” he began at last, his voice smooth and controlled, cutting through the laughter with effortless authority. The room grew quieter as his friends
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