My Ruthless Opponent Novels & Stories

He kept going through the numbers trying to confirm it, as it felt like a fantasy dream. "That sounds like a good investment for us." I responded. They both nodded positively "Your truly ruthless, Nikolas." Wren said with a wry smile as he glanced through the agreement. He always knew of my gruesome tactics in negotiation, yet his astonishment only grew stronger on every business deal I concluded. "I've to do what it takes to get my money back." I replied slowly relaxing back on my chair. A truly worthy conquest. I told myself quietly.

" The woman complained. The man lifted his hands to his face and gently washed it with his palms. In the midst of a fierce argument, it's likely that his beloved, who displays the greatest tenacity, will ultimately claim victory. She possessed an unwavering determination, while he was put to the test by maintaining his composure. Should she fail to meet the criteria of his beloved, her head would promptly be launched through the nearest window, a testament to his utter lack of forbearance.

His hair wasn't tied as usual, falling down his face as he wrapped the bandage around his knuckles and hand in general, meanwhile Jesper was messaging his shoulders and looking around before his eyes met mine and I prayed to God, hoping that Jesper wouldn't know it's me. But all of that was in vain when he whispered something to Savaş before the latter's head snapped in my direction, his eyes spoke a thousand emotions and I knew that no disguise in the world would make me unknown to him… he would always know me. Always. Savaş stood up when the bell was rung, his opponent mirroring his moves before he launched at Savaş his fist almost connected with his face but Savaş blocked it quickly with

"I don't need your opinion about my actions. I'll do what I want!" "And where will your stubbornness pick you up? He was on the verge of hitting you!" "I hope you just let it go, then. You think I'm too weak and I couldn't take it? Then you're wrong! I can handle myself!" "Really, huh?" he challenged, there was a diminution in the way he looked at me. "Why are you interfering? It's not because you're my friend's cousin that you can scold me! You're not my brother, Rustov!"

That would keep him busy for a while. I turned toward Short Guy and smiled. The audience roared. They knew that smile. The look in my opponent’s eyes was familiar: panic and horrified realization. I stalked toward him, and he raised his fists. I feigned an attack, causing him to stumble back. I chuckled. This was going to be fun. I lunged at him, kicking and punching hard without mercy. The cries of the crowd and the fucking whimpers of my opponent spurred me on, but the fucking hollowness in my chest remained. I kicked him over and over again until everything was red.

The mansion, the private island, and the global business empire stood as living proof that one desperate bargain could birth an eternal legacy of love, power, passion, and resilience. Isabella Black, now twenty-eight, had fully stepped into her role as a key executive in the family empire. With her great-grandmother Emma’s fiery spirit and her grandfather’s razor-sharp business acumen, she had risen quickly through the ranks. She was brilliant, ambitious, and unafraid to challenge anyone — including the arrogant and brilliant Marcus Lang, grandson of the old rival Victor Lang. Their rivalry had become the talk of the company: heated boardroom battles that often left both of them flushed and

Despite the chaos, adrenaline coursed through his veins. "You bastard," He cussed, swinging his fist fiercely toward his opponent. His opponent stepped back, dodging the punch, his fists raised in anticipation. "I'll kill you," He vowed, throwing a punch at Richard. Richard ducked it, countering with a swift punch straight into the man's belly. The man groaned and dropped to the floor as if struck with a heavy weight. The pain was immense, but Richard felt a surge of power. As Richard noticed that his opponent had dropped to his knees, he quickly jumped up and stomped on his back, the impact reverberating through his legs.

she whispered, fierce and quiet so she would not wake the baby. The billionaire looked down at the woman defending her territory and felt a strange surge of respect for her defiance. The women in his world often folded under his intimidation, but Maren had a core of hardened steel forged by tragedy. "Your vulnerability is the least of my concerns when our mutual enemy is at this moment plotting a legal execution," Gideon said, gesturing toward the screen.

Then, I walked to the fighting ground, stepping into the circle, and bracing myself for what to come. My opponent didn’t just walk in, he arrived. His entrance, steady and deliberate. It was Stephen. A guy that had never said more than five words to a person, but his overwhelming strength made up for his inability to socialize. He scrutinized me with a calm gaze, showing awareness and control. My throat dried, feeling intense chills prickling against my skin. He was the perfect definition of a deadly storm hidden behind peaceful waters.

Dominic’s POV People call me ruthless. They say it like an insult, but to me it’s survival. Ruthless means no hesitation, no weakness, no room for someone to get close enough to destroy or hurt. It means control, absolute control, over every piece of my world. I don’t bend. I don’t yield. And I damn well never lose. That’s what they see of me. That’s what I’ve built. But what no one knows, what I never allow anyone to see even a glimpse, is that under all the steel, under the sharp edges and discipline, there is something else. A wound. A hunger. And it terrifies me more than anything else in this world.