The night was calm as Rhys strolled through the compound of the mini-house, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of city life, but Rhys was hardly in the mood to appreciate any of it. His mind was weighed down by thoughts of Denera. Lately, their once-solid bond had been fractured, and the secrecy surrounding her had only deepened the rift. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on than she was letting him see. The weight of uncertainty pressed on his chest, making his breath feel shallow.He walked aimlessly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the gravel path as he mulled over every conversation, every distant glance, and every sleepless night they’d shared recently. Then, the sound of a door creaking open behind him made him stop in his tracks.Rhys turned around to see a man walking out of the house. The man was tall, well over six feet, and moved with the kind of eff
The scene opened with the cold, sterile hum of the hidden facility where Laurel had been held for weeks. The place was a far cry from the chaos of the outside world, and yet, within these walls, an entirely different kind of order was enforced—one that left little room for hope.Laurel’s daily routine had become a monotonous loop, stripping away her sense of self. She woke up each day to the harsh clang of metal doors and the barking orders of guards, the chill of the cell biting into her bones. The mornings began early, with the guards rapping on the thick iron bars, signaling it was time to rise. There was no sunlight here, no concept of day or night—just the artificial lights overhead that flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the concrete walls.Breakfast was served in small metal trays, and it was always the same—a bland, tasteless mixture of porridge and stale bread. Laurel sat alone in her cell as she ate, eyes hollow, her mind wandering back to the life she on
In the dimly lit room of the hidden facility, a subtle tension filled the air. Screens lined the walls, flickering with footage from every corner of the compound. Men in black uniforms sat silently, their eyes glued to the surveillance monitors, the rhythmic sound of clicking keys occasionally breaking the stillness. The door creaked open, and all heads turned as Kiara entered, her presence commanding attention without a word. Behind her, a tall, stern-faced man followed, nodding to the guards."Bring up the feed of Laurel's room," the man ordered sharply, his voice echoing slightly in the cold, sterile room.The operatives quickly tapped on the keyboards, and one of the central screens lit up with the live feed of a small, dimly lit room. Laurel lay on the bed, curled up on her side, motionless but alert. Her hair was disheveled, and her body spoke of exhaustion, though her eyes were wide open, staring at the walls, clearly far from sleep."How's she been?" Kiara asked, stepping c
The rhythmic thud of fists hitting the heavy punching bags filled the air of Ethan’s private gym, the sound accompanied by grunts of effort and the steady hum of machines. Ethan and Paul were sparring in the open area, the gleaming hardwood floor reflecting the bright overhead lights. It was early morning, and both men had been at it for almost an hour, sweat beading on their foreheads and rolling down their necks. Ethan, always competitive, threw a sharp jab, which Paul dodged, but not before Ethan followed up with a quick kick to his side.“Getting slow, Paul?” Ethan teased, grinning as he lowered his guard slightly.Paul rolled his eyes, stepping back to catch his breath. “Not slow, just giving you a chance for once.”Ethan chuckled, wiping his face with a towel. “You’re too generous, my friend.”The gym was a space designed for intensity—walls adorned with motivational quotes, sleek and minimalistic equipment lined up with precision, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a pano
The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced with every movement Jackson made. Sweat dripped from his brow as he jabbed at the air, the sound of his fists cutting through the silence. His breathing was steady, each punch more forceful than the last. He moved with precision, years of training evident in the way his body moved—a symphony of discipline and focus. The walls were bare except for a single mirror that reflected his intense expression, a man driven by secrets and ambition.Next, Jackson moved to the knife rack on the wall. He grabbed three blades, testing their weight in his hands. With a quick, practiced flick, he hurled them one by one at the target across the room. Each knife buried itself deep into the bullseye, the thud of steel hitting wood echoing through the space. He smiled grimly, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes before it was replaced by the familiar gnaw of doubt and anger.The memory crept in uninvited. Ethan. The crime. Ten years ago.He pa
The night was still, almost too quiet. A crescent moon cast its pale light over the secluded estate where Rhys moved through the garden, unaware that his every step was being mirrored by a group of men cloaked in shadows. Five of them, masked and silent, moved with the precision of predators stalking their prey. They stayed in the periphery, always out of sight, blending into the night. Their black attire made them nearly invisible in the low light, and the only hint of their presence was the soft shuffle of feet that the wind conveniently swallowed up.Rhys paused, glancing around briefly as though he sensed something was off, but the masked men had already melted into the darkness, crouching behind the dense shrubbery and trees. His phone rang, breaking the tension, and he answered, distracted by the conversation, continuing his walk toward the house. The men followed, their movements synchronized and calculated. They weren’t just watching; they were studying him, memorizing eve
Rhys stood in front of the Rhodes mansion, his fingers brushing against the iron-knobbed door. The grand estate loomed before him, a structure steeped in memories, both bitter and sweet. It had been weeks since he left, distancing himself from the chaos, from Denera, and from the life they had built together. Now, returning here felt strange, like stepping into a past he wasn’t sure he could face. His mind was still reeling from Sebastian’s visit, but his body was numb, moving on autopilot as he raised his fist and knocked.The door creaked open, and there she was—Denera. Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and elation. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. She blinked a few times, almost as if she wasn’t sure he was real. “Rhys…” Her voice finally broke the silence, and in it, there was so much emotion. Hope, confusion, longing.He saw her excitement, the way her body seemed to relax at the sight of him, as if expecting that this was it—that he had forgiven he
Mark Dave sat in the study of his room. A lot ran unhinged in his mind and he needed to reevaluate his stance in the war that was going on.Mark Dave had always been the reliable one, the trusted right hand to the Old Man. For years, he stood by, working hard, making sacrifices, and handling the details behind the Anderson’s business success. But no one ever saw it. No one ever gave him the credit he deserved. It was always The Old Man who got the applause, the recognition, and the spotlight. Every time Mark’s phone buzzed with congratulations, it wasn’t for him—it was for the man standing in front of him. As if that wasn’t enough, Ethan emerged out of nowhere and then completely shattered his dream of taking over from the Old Man.Ethan’s arrival to society further cemented his fate that he wouldn’t rise beyond his current status. Mark stared at the stack of papers on his desk, his hands clenched into fists. All these years, he had given everything to the company. He had kept thi