Heat Prequel Novels & Stories

The atmosphere was dull and the temperature was very low, so low that it made one's whole body tremble. In the center of that big hall was a grand preceptor armchair, and in it sat a middle-aged man with a ruddy face. He appeared to be about 40 to 50 years old. He had a square jaw, thick eyebrows, a high nose, slightly white temples, and was dressed in a black suit. He was the current patriarch of the Quaid family and the person with the highest prestige in the entire family, Quentin Quaid! With the ability to command thousands of troops, he had fought countless battles to achieve his current status.

I stared at him through the pain, through the burning, through the moment my last illusion finally collapsed, my gaze fixed on the broad, unmoving line of his back. This wasn’t discipline. This was erasure. And as the mark burned away from my skin, something else disappeared with it. When it was finished, he turned away first. Juliana exhaled shakily and leaned into his chest. “I know it hurts,” she whispered. “But now… now I can finally feel safe.” He held her close. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll always be loyal to you.” His eyes flicked briefly toward me.“I won’t keep female subordinates again.”