The Supreme Sovereign Returns

Chapter 005

Dark clouds hung low over the city.

Meanwhile, Damon Grady's face was swollen and bruised, his injuries freshly bandaged, but his mood was far worse than his appearance. He hid in a corner downstairs, scanning left and right for any sign of that maniac. Satisfied the coast was clear, he fumbled for his phone and dialed. After several rings, someone finally picked up.

"Is the Gould heir available? This is Damon calling!"

"Speak," came the low, icy voice from the other end.

Damon recognized the voice immediately, and despite the sharp pain shooting through his face, he pressed the phone tightly against his ear and hurried to explain, "Young Master, the plan failed. The mute is a lot tougher than we expected, and even with all of us fighting together, we couldn't take him down."

Silence stretched across the line for several seconds, leaving Damon's heart pounding as he waited nervously for a response, too afraid to say another word.

"Where is he?"

Damon hesitated, caught off guard by the question, before asking uncertainly, "What... what do you mean?"

"I asked where the hell he is!" the voice snapped, its icy restraint giving way to barely contained fury.

The voice suddenly spiked several octaves. Damon nearly dropped his phone, scared witless.

By nightfall, the bar was buzzing with music and conversation, its crowded floor filled with beautiful women weaving effortlessly through the throng.

In a shadowed corner, a man poured himself another drink, his expression dark and brooding. His gaze held the image of a woman, one far more captivating than anyone else in the bar. A woman who had haunted him for a thousand years.

Cassian Reed shook his head, and the vision of Neve Ashford dissolved.

How pathetic.

A woman he'd carried in his heart for a millennium. A woman whose face had moved him to tears the moment he saw her again after his rebirth. And yet she'd believed a lie even a child could see through, had chosen her family over trusting him. After a thousand years of devotion, she couldn't even bring herself to believe in him. It really was laughable.

A Sovereign reduced to begging for drinks at a bar. Even more laughable.

"Waiter."

Cassian shook his empty glass and snapped his fingers.

The server wore a body-hugging dress, her lips painted blood red. Despite the chaotic crowd, her professionalism was impeccable. She spotted his raised hand instantly and made her way over, hips swaying. "Sir, what else can I get you?"

"Martini."

"That would be your third bottle, sir."

Her expression turned hesitant, though she didn't elaborate further.

"Don't worry. I won't get drunk, and I won't cause trouble."

Cassian flashed a disarming smile, casually lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag, exhaling smoke as he surveyed the stylish men and beautiful women around him. His mood felt lighter than it had in centuries. For the first time in ages, he'd let his guard drop completely. No need to watch for assassins lurking in every shadow, no need to calculate threats with every breath. It was strange, almost absurd. All that cultivation level, all that power, and somehow a single drink felt more valuable.

Right, that had to be it.

The server was probably just worried he'd get drunk.

As a thousand-year-old Sovereign, a few bottles of alcohol couldn't possibly affect him. Cassian still had that much confidence.

Suddenly, a striking figure caught his eye.

Cigarette dangling from his lips, Cassian squinted through the haze of smoke. Slender waist, long legs, curves in all the right places. He peered past the heavy smoky makeup and recognized her features. Of all the bars in the city, he'd stumbled into one with a familiar face.

Well, semi-familiar.

Rosalie Calloway.

The Ashford family had one widely known rival: the Calloway family. Rosalie was their beloved daughter, holding roughly the same position in her family that Neve held in hers. Cassian, as Neve's husband... ex-husband... had encountered Rosalie a handful of times.

What a coincidence.

"Sir."

The server's voice pulled him back to the present.

Cassian glanced up and found her still looking uncertain. He was about to speak when she bit her lip, seeming to make a difficult decision, and said quickly, "Sir, you've been ordering our premium martini. To prevent, um, issues with payment, house policy requires customers to settle their tab after three bottles."

"Please understand."

"Oh. No problem."

Cassian smiled. He'd been a Sovereign for so long, he'd forgotten how the mortal world worked a thousand years ago. Three bottles of martini wouldn't knock out even a lightweight drinker. The server clearly thought he looked broke and was worried he'd skip out on the bill.

He almost laughed.

A Sovereign without money?

Confidence radiating from every pore, Cassian reached into his pockets and patted them down. But with each empty pocket, his expression darkened a fraction more. The mighty Sovereign... apparently didn't have a single coin on him.

Damn it all.

He'd almost forgotten.

The realization hit him like cold water. A thousand years ago, he'd been nothing but a worthless househusband, a man who'd married into the Ashford family. A proper househusband who rarely left the house, and given how the Ashford family treated him, why would he ever have money in his pockets?

More accurately, in his previous life as a Sovereign, he'd always taken what he needed by force. He rarely carried money then, either.

Cassian's hand, still holding the cigarette, paused mid-motion. Ash tumbled to the table. All the cheerful noise around him seemed to fade into silence. The moment stretched awkwardly. Cassian almost wanted to laugh. The son-in-law of an old-money family, unable to afford three bottles of liquor.

He hadn't seen that coming.

"Sir?"

"Look, I..."

Cassian exhaled slowly, about to ask if he could run a tab. He was a Sovereign, for crying out loud. Surely he wouldn't skip out on a bar tab. But before he could finish, a massive commotion erupted across the room!

The server's face went pale. The three bottles were instantly forgotten.

"Feisty little thing, aren't you? I'm warning you, don't push your luck!"

Several men surrounded a stunningly beautiful woman. The leader, a bald man, let out a cold laugh, his eyes glinting with menace. At his signal, the others shifted formation, closing in on her from all sides.

Well, well.

Rosalie.

Cassian narrowed his eyes. The woman in question was indeed Rosalie.

"Stay away from me!"

Rosalie gripped an empty glass, the Blue Velvet cocktail it had contained now dripping down the men's shirts. She'd thought they were just ordinary lowlifes hitting on her, nothing unusual. She'd thrown her drink without a second thought. But their reaction made her realize this wasn't ordinary at all. Her expression turned grim.

"Someone! There's trouble here!"

Several male servers pushed through the crowd toward the disturbance. The lead server had a pale, pretty-boy face. He approached Baldy with a placating smile. "Sir, this is the Baron's establishment. If you'd be willing to let this slide, I'll personally cover your drinks tonight."

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

Baldy backhanded him across the face. "You dare interfere in the Gould family's business?!"

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the entire bar. Everyone watching fell silent. The pretty-boy server's cheek swelled instantly, makeup smearing off half his face. One side pale, one side sallow, he looked grotesque. Seeing this, no one else dared step forward. The crowd quickly melted away.

"The Gould family!"

"It's actually the Gould family!"

"Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you!"

Whispers rippled through the onlookers as they recognized Baldy's identity.

Rosalie's face went deathly pale, her delicate brows knitting together. The Gould family's reputation was fearsome. No one in a small bar like this would dare challenge them. If she wanted to escape, she'd have to do it herself. Rosalie glanced left and right, planning to bolt toward the thickest part of the crowd. But the moment she tried to move, her legs went soft. Her entire body crumpled, uncontrollable, collapsing to the floor.

"Still feeling feisty now, little girl?"

Baldy roared with laughter, immediately gesturing for his men to move in.

The drink was drugged...

Despair flooded Rosalie's eyes. She watched helplessly as Baldy and his thugs grabbed her by the arms, hoisting her upright. The surrounding crowd didn't just refuse to help, they actively cleared a path. The men began dragging her toward the exit.

Then, from the edge of that path, a voice rang out.

"Hey, beautiful. Care to buy me a drink?"