جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 70

Nero sat in the G-Wagon’s leather interior, the engine’s low hum a faint pulse against the city’s distant clamor. Samantha’s retreating figure, her triplets clinging to her, burned in his mind. Her hatred was a wall he couldn’t scale with words, her pain a debt he could never fully repay. But he’d try. His hand dipped into his coat, fingers closing around a sleek black bank card, loaded with a billion dollars— as the king of war and the most powerful person in the military and in the whole world, that was a chicken feed to him. He handed it to Jason, his voice steady but heavy. “Find a way to give this to her. Pin’s 7789.”Jason, his lean frame taut, took the card, his knives glinting faintly at his waist. Nero’s eyes bored into him. “Actions speak louder than words,” he said, his tone resolute. “If I’m to earn her forgiveness, my hands will do what my mouth can’t.” He paused, jaw tight. “And that’s not all. Arrange for her father’s release from prison. Tomorrow morning, we get my sis

Jason stood rigid, his boots scuffing the dirt outside as he waited for Nero. His jaw tightened, fingers twitching toward the holster at his hip, itching to join Nero on the mission. He’d offered—practically begged—to escort Nero to Sterling City, to storm Madame Veyra’s estate and pull Natasha, Nero’s twin sister, from the jaws of slavery. But Nero’s eyes, sharp as obsidian and unyielding as stone, had cut through Jason’s plea.“No,” Nero had said, voice low, final. “I go alone. Stay here.”Jason’s hand snapped to his brow in a salute, a reflex born of respect and fear. “Yes, sir.” He didn’t dare argue with the god of war, not when Nero’s mind was set, his broad shoulders already turning toward the horizon. The address Jason had scrawled on a crumpled slip of paper now burned a hole in Nero’s pocket as he climbed into the battered pickup truck. The engine roared to life, and with a spray of gravel, he was gone, the taillights fading into the dusk.The drive stretched over three hours

Natasha’s hands trembled, her fingers faltering as she signed, “S-Sir…” Her voice, trapped in silence, was a mute plea in the dimly lit office. The bald man’s eyes raked over her, lingering on the curve of her hips, the delicate line of her collarbone exposed by the flimsy lingerie. His grin was a slick, predatory thing. “Relax, I won’t eat you. Come sit with me.” He patted the leather couch beside him, the sound a dull thud against the hum of distant music.Terror coiled in Natasha’s gut, but defiance was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Her bare feet padded across the plush carpet, each step heavier than the last, until she sank onto the couch, keeping as much distance as she could. His gaze lit up, hungry and unyielding, as he poured two glasses of red wine, the liquid glinting like blood in the amber light. He slid one toward her. “Come. Drink with me!”Her hands fluttered, signing, “S-Sir, I… I can’t drink.” Her eyes darted to the glass, then away, fear tightening her throat.“It’s

The cubicle door splintered under Nero’s kick, revealing Eddy straddling the waiter, her skirt hiked up, panties discarded on the grimy floor. She froze, mid-motion, her eyes wide with shock. The waiter opened his mouth to yell, but Nero’s palm struck like lightning, knocking him out cold. Eddy’s curse was cut short as Nero seized her by the collar, yanking her off the unconscious man. “Where’s Natasha?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.“You f*cking—” Eddy’s words choked off as Nero’s hand clamped around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. Her face reddened, eyes bulging with terror. “She’s… in the office,” she rasped, voice barely audible.“Take me there.” Nero released her, his gaze a blade. Eddy, cowed by the murder in his eyes, stumbled to her feet and led him down the dim corridor, her heels clicking unevenly. She pushed open a heavy oak door, and Nero didn’t hesitate. His boot slammed into it, the wood exploding inward with a thunderous *boom*.Insi

The bald man’s phone slipped from his trembling hand, shattering on the floor. His knees buckled, and he dropped, the carpet muffling the thud. Eddy followed, her face ashen, her cigarette forgotten. “Sir… General… I’m sorry, please forgive me,” the bald man stammered, groveling at Nero’s feet. Eddy’s head bowed, her breath hitching in fear. Nero ignored them, his focus on Natasha. The drug was potent, draining his energy as he poured more of his spiritual energy into her. Her eyelids fluttered, her lips parting. “Brother…?” she whispered, her voice cracking the silence she’d held for seven years. Her eyes, wide with shock, traced his face. The shame of the stage, the skimpy lingerie, the leering crowds—it all flooded back. Life had bent her, forced her into this hell, but here was Nero, alive, real. “Yes, it’s me, Tasha,” Nero said, his smile soft, warm against the cold room. Only Nero called her by that name...Tasha.....Her surprise mirrored his own joy—seven years apart, and now