A spy? Ethan's eyes widened. “How do you know she works for me?”Mark scratched the back of his head. “Well, she's wearing the signal of the House of Anderson as a headband.”It was true. Ethan noticed the image of a fierce lion on her headband. “So you recognized her with that. Was she wearing it that day too?”Mark nodded. “Yes, she was.”“Why didn't you call for help or something?”“I thought she was sent by you, and when I tried to confront her, she set the room ablaze. You know what happened after that.”Ethan stood akimbo. He couldn't believe his ears. “You are an important person, Mr. Mark David. You have a seat on the board, and your words are usually acknowledged more than Rachel's. Why do you keep acting like you aren't one of us?” It baffled Ethan why the man kept acting like he was inferior. “You could have told me.”Mark gave him a nervous laugh. “Mr. Ethan! I do that out of respect. I know I can never measure up to the houses. Moreover, Rachel shuts me up.”“Nonsense!” E

The old man’s hands were tightly bound, and he felt them go numb as he was pushed into a large cage. “You promised I’d be free,” he said through clenched teeth.“I can’t let you go,” Kenji snapped back. “When you mentioned the name Anderson, I realized I had to keep you here. I’m the Mafia boss of this crew.”“You tricked me,” the old man spat. “Why?”“Because it benefits me,” Kenji replied, his voice cold. “You could be worth a lot of money. Ready to negotiate?”The old man swallowed hard, feeling trapped. Ethan had told him he could buy his freedom with money. But the old man was up to something. He was here for a reason, and he wouldn't let it go to waste. “I work for Ethan Anderson. If you think using me to get to him is a good idea, you’re making a mistake. He won’t be easy to deal with.”Kenji’s face hardened. “That’s not my problem. I’m interested in what you’re worth.”The old man took a deep breath. “You want money? Fine. But you’ll need to understand that Ethan doesn’t deal

Ethan's mind raced as he stared at the man before him, disheveled and trembling. The revelation of a man disguised as a maid sent ripples of confusion and alarm through the room. The guests, huddled together, exchanged frantic whispers, their eyes wide with shock. Ethan, however, forced himself to remain calm, his instincts as a leader kicking in. He needed answers, and fast.The man, now stripped of his disguise, looked up at Ethan with a mix of fear and defiance. His face, once obscured by heavy makeup, was now a patchwork of smeared foundation and sweat, revealing sharp features beneath. His eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal, searching for any escape. But there was none. The guests had formed a makeshift barrier, their fear palpable but their curiosity stronger."Who are you?" Ethan's voice was firm, leaving no room for evasion. "And why were you pretending to be a maid?"The man swallowed hard, his throat bobbing nervously. For a moment, it seemed as though he mig

The cold, unforgiving lights of the underground ring buzzed overhead, casting eerie shadows across the gritty, sweat-stained floor. Alex could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rapid thump echoing in his ears like the drumming of war. The crowd around him was a seething mass of bodies, their faces hidden in the gloom, save for the occasional flicker of hungry eyes or the gleam of a twisted smile. They were here for blood, and Alex could sense it—a collective thirst that hung in the air like a thick, poisonous fog."First time?" The man in the leather jacket, who had introduced himself as Mike, asked as he handed Alex a pair of worn-out gloves. They smelled of sweat and fear, the leather cracked from years of abuse.Alex nodded, his mouth dry as sandpaper. "Yeah," he croaked, barely able to get the word out. He glanced around the dingy room, his eyes taking in the faded posters of past fights plastered on the walls, the broken bottles littering the floor, and the graffiti that

Jason’s footsteps echoed through the penthouse as he left the unconscious woman behind, the sound rhythmic and controlled—much like everything else in his life. The night was quiet, almost serene, as he moved through the darkness, but his mind was anything but calm. Every thought was a calculated move, every decision a step toward maintaining his meticulously constructed empire.He walked into his study, a room that was as cold and impersonal as the man himself. The walls were lined with books he’d never read, their spines uncracked, more for show than anything else. A large, imposing desk dominated the room, and he approached it with the same measured pace, his hand reaching for a sleek, black laptop.As the screen flickered to life, Jason’s eyes scanned through the information displayed. He was pulling up everything he had on Mark, the idiot who had almost jeopardized his entire operation. Mark had been a useful tool, but tools that became liabilities were discarded quickly. Jason h