Chapter 4 THE NIGHT OF THE SHOT

Chris POV

I thought Matt was going to give the signal to kill me. It felt like I was waiting forever.

I could feel the warmth of the red laser dots on my skin, steady and patient waiting for his signal.

Matt Davis just stared at me in silence.

Then, instead of ordering my execution, he raised one hand slowly.

It was a movement but it meant everything. He pulled the laser dots instantly toward the darkness beyond the balcony, where his unseen men were waiting. The threat didn't disappear—I could still feel their sights locked on me. Their fingers stopped on the triggers yet my life belonged to him.

He turned his gaze back to me.

The strangest thing was the lack of anger on his face. If he had been yelling or visibly upset, I would have understood and known how to react. What I saw was pure icy command.

He took a step forward. Reached for the front of my black hoodie.

Before I could move his fingers caught the fabric over my chest. Ripped it. The sound of tearing cloth filled the night. The hoodie—the one with the name that was my identity—split open and dropped to the floor.

The word ‘Ghost’ crumpled under his shoe.

He glanced down nudging the ruined cotton aside with the tip of his leather shoe.

“Cheap " he muttered.

The word wasn't loud. It hurt more than any bullet. That garment was my symbol, my shadow. Seeing it dismissed easily felt like watching a part of myself being tossed away. The night wind immediately felt sharp against the undershirt left on my body. I’d never felt this exposed before—not because of the skin showing. Because my armor of anonymity was gone. My weapons were gone. My name was trash on marble.

His eyes swept over me taking inventory without hurry. I tried not to flinch. My body betrayed me. A small internal tremor I couldn't stop ran through me.

He moved behind me his warmth close enough to feel through the fabric clinging to my back.

“If I let you walk away now," he said plainly, "it would mean ending your life.”

It wasn't a threat; it was just stated as a fact.

My throat went dry.

He stepped back in front of me his eyes locking onto mine with a focus.

“But I can’t do that " he continued, "because you are more valuable to me alive than dead.”

The word hammered inside my head. Not pardoned not spared, but valued.

Before I could even process that he bent slightly. Lifted me up with one arm as if I weighed nothing. My breath hitched in surprise. I’d handled men before but carrying me with such simple ease was deeply humiliating.

He walked through the balcony doors into his bedroom.

The room was huge a mix of wood and polished stone. The massive bed sat like a throne in the center, framed by posts that looked carved from ancient, expensive rock. Soft lighting made the space warm a contrast to the icy tension hanging in the air.

He dropped me onto the mattress without warning.

I tried to spring up. His hand slammed flat against my chest pressing me back down hard. His grip was controlled,. It was absolute steel.

“I hate the fact that you pointed a weapon at me," he said calmly, looking down at me. "No one gets away with that.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. It was simply the rule.

A faint metallic clink sounded near my ankles. Before I could figure out what was happening, cold steel cuffs snapped around my legs, locking them to the bed frame. I tugged uselessly; the chains held fast.

Panic, sharp and choking clawed at my composure. This wasn’t a battlefield. There was no shadow to slip into, no room to maneuver. I was trapped, physically and mentally inside his fortress.

“I don’t get this, " I choked out, my voice shaking despite my effort to sound firm. "You’ve made your point. Just let me go.”

He didn't acknowledge my words. Instead, he calmly removed his outer jacket and draped it over a chair with perfect, deliberate motions. Everything he did was measured, as if he had already seen the ten steps of this encounter.

My hands instinctively balled into fists on the sheets.

“I don’t pursue men, " I rushed out, desperation leaking into my voice. "Whatever this is I’m not interested in…”

His eyes hardened instantly.

“I am not limited by your assumptions," he cut in his voice, turning colder. "This has nothing to do with what you prefer.”

He stepped closer resting one hand on the edge of the bed near my hip. His sheer presence felt suffocating, rooted in an authority that went beyond strength.

“You broke into my home," he stated, his gaze unbroken. "You believed you could take my life and just disappear.”

That question hit me harder than the restraints.

The Monkey Group. They had sent me here full of confidence. They insisted I was the person. Had they known this would happen? Was I nothing but a pawn they were willing to sacrifice in a bigger game?

Matt released my chin. Stood up straight.

“You are trembling " he noted.

“I’m not scared " I insisted, though the lie tasted sour.

A slight curve touched his mouth—a humorless smile.

“You are " he corrected gently.

He was entirely correct. For the time in my operational life, I felt small and powerless.

He walked to the window looking out over the illuminated estate. From my position shackled to his bed, I could see the distant rhythmic movements of his guards patrolling below.

“What is it you actually want from me?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

He paused, clearly weighing how much truth I deserved to hear.

“You were sent here " he said at last. "You didn’t choose this.”

It wasn't a question.

I hesitated, my mind racing through the possibilities.

He turned back to face me.

“The Monkey Group " he continued, a note of amusement entering his tone when he spoke their name. "They are ambitious.”

His familiarity with the group's name clicked everything into place.

“You knew " I breathed out.

“I allowed it " he confirmed.

Those words felt like a strike.

“You were bait " he finished smoothly. "A test of their reach and your competence.. It seems, you know too much now to simply be let go.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“So the goal was never to execute you " I murmured, piecing it together.

“The goal was never to kill me " he agreed.

I felt chill down my spine as I thought about the six men I had to battle before taking my money. There was a rule in the underworld and I had always thought that with my level, no one should dare do that with me. I can't believe they thought it was right to kill me because I knew too much. It was too low of them to send me into the lion's den simply because they couldn't have their way easily. I guess with me coming here, they were fucking assured I was dead. They better pray I die in here else I would make sure they never see the light of another day.

He stepped closer to the bed once more, his expression unreadable as he approached my restrained body. I couldn't understand what he was trying to do as I begged him to let me go, but he wouldn't, and soon he started to strip off his pants. I shivered in shock as I realized he was a gay man. "I don't do men. Please gay man, just let me go." I begged.

"I'm not a gay man. I'm a gay Lord!" He corrected and dipped his fingers into my anus roughly about six times before I felt him penetrating really hard and roughly. At this point, I felt like I was about to die.