Kristoff accepted the handkerchief from his trusted aide, Roland Silverio. With deliberate, almost regal movements, he gently wiped the blood from his hands.Then, with slow precision, he removed his mask—revealing a face that could steal the very breath from anyone who dared look. His eyes, dark and fathomless, were like enchanted wells, pulling anyone who met them deeper and deeper into their spell. Above lips that were perfectly sculpted, sat a nose as sharp and chiseled as if carved by the gods themselves.The hard lines of Kristoff’s face radiated both power and beauty—too perfect, almost, to belong to a mere man. It was the kind of face that could outshine the brightest stars in show business.But beyond his looks, it was his aura that commanded fear and awe—untamed, unshakable, and terrifying. This was a man who held the fates of countless lives in the palm of his hand.Kristoff’s lips curved into a smile, and in his eyes glimmered a threat."And what if I am?"Irene’s eyes wid
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