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The slow, rhythmic drip of water from a dark corner echoed through the basement. There was the faint, metallic scrape of shifting chains, followed by the ragged breathing of a human being realizing that death was closing in.Sapphire pulled up a chair, flipped it around, and sat straddling it in front of the maid. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t angry. And that was precisely what made him terrifying."You know," Sapphire said, his gaze cool and steady. "Master Michael must be having a grand old time upstairs. He wouldn’t dream of bothering himself with a rat like you. But me? I’ve got all the time in the world."Sapphire stood and circled the chair, stopping directly behind her."I can still smell the cyanide mixed with flower nectar from the tea on the floor. How quaint. Whoever sent you must be an old-timer who refuses to let go of the traditional ways.""J-just kill me. I’m not telling you anything.""Dying is easy, you bastard. The hard part is staying sane in my hands." Sapphire yank
Michael leapt through the shattered window frame, completely ignoring the shards of glass slicing into his palms. Rage had entirely consumed his sanity.Within seconds, he landed in the garden, planting his dress shoe firmly onto the servant’s gunshot-wounded calf. He pressed down with all his might until a piercing shriek shattered the silence of the night."Who sent you?""No one, I did it of my own free will.""Impossible."Yohan’s son grabbed the servant's collar, lifting him until they were eye to eye."Answer me while I'm still asking nicely.""What's the point? If I'm going to end up dead anyway, why should I tell yo
The sharp sting of alcohol and the lingering scent of gunpowder clung to Michael’s blazer. On a private pier hidden from any police radar, Michael stood with a cold, imposing presence. Before him, dozens of wooden crates bearing the eagle insignia were being hoisted into a massive container ship."Has everything been inspected?" Michael asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips."Yes, Master. Thirty sets of high-voltage gear, fifty pistols, and the 'flour' requested by the Black Lions are in the lower hold. Everything is clean," one of his men reported with a low bow.Michael gave a curt nod. He didn't care about the billions that would flood his accounts tonight. His mind was fixed on Luna’s pale face. Guilt and obsession had made him loathe himself. Throughout the journey back, he stared into a void. Upon reaching the mansion, he snatched a bottle of whisky from his aide and drank it straight—like a man who no longer believed in tomorrow.“How much longer must we play nice, Sapphire?
Michael’s hand hovered near his ankle, ready to draw his concealed pistol. His eyes narrowed, tracking the four strangers who had suddenly emerged from behind the velvet curtains.Seeing his guarded stance, Harmer let out a dry chuckle. “Haha, for a second I thought you’re the bravest alive. Relax, Boy. I only want to show you something.”The old man, a veteran of the illicit drug trade, gave a sharp nod. Immediately, the blonde woman beside him lunged, attempting to snatch a single rose from Harmer’s aide.She was clever, realizing her raw strength was no match for four hulking men. Instead, she moved like a shadow, targeting their vital points with surgical precision. The skirmish in the cramped room shattered several tables, but her lithe frame was far more agile than her opponents. Within moments, all four men—each triple her size—collapsed, gasping for air after she struck their solar plexus and delivered a punishing blow to their groins.“Boss.” The woman knelt, presenting the ro
The bitter aroma of tobacco smoke clung to every corner of the room as Michael stepped into the bar. The clinking of glasses and the boisterous laughter seemed to be sucked dry by the frigid air he brought with him. The old man across the table, who had been laughing loudly just moments before, abruptly straightened his posture.A waitress approached with a silver tray, attempting to pour whisky into Michael’s crystal glass. However, when her eyes accidentally met his—dark, void of expression—her hands began to tremble violently.“F-forgive me, Sir ..,” she whispered, her voice catching. A few drops of whisky splashed onto the expensive wooden table. “Please, mercy … it was an accident.”The bar’s guards, stationed in the corners, instinctively reached for the weapons at their waists. They were wary of Yohan’s son; Michael’s reputation preceded him as the man who once broke a dealer’s fingers simply for misdealing a single card.“Master, should we handle this stupid woman?” a bodyguar
Michael gazed anxiously at his lover, who was sleeping with a deathly pale face. Luna had repeatedly refused his visits, but he could no longer restrain the urge to see the woman who held his heart.Her body was dotted with dark, bruised punctures. Though minuscule, their sheer number made the evidence of her torture hauntingly clear. Occasionally, Luna let out a soft groan; the agony was too much for her fragile frame to bear.Michael picked up a tube of ointment from the table and began to apply it with trembling care. His mind seethed with a white-hot rage—not at the one who had tried to poison him, but at Yohan, his own father. The old man had dared to order an interrogation of his precious girl without his consent, despite knowing full well that Michael was utterly infatuated with her.“You’re awake, Love,” Michael murmured as Luna’s eyes slowly fluttered open.“Michael … what are you doing here? Ah—!”“Calm down. Your body haven't fully closed yet.”“Didn't I forbid you from com







