Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 807

Chapter 807: Where Gods Come Home

The Hunters devoured the coastal highway like starving predators finally let off the leash.

Two hundred. Two-fifty. Three hundred miles per hour—the speedometer gave up pretending to matter somewhere around two-eighty, dissolving into abstract poetry while the world smeared into long, liquid streaks of green, gray, and salt-blue.

Cities vanished in minutes. Suburbs surrendered without a fight. Farmland rolled over and played dead.

Then forest closed in—ancient, brooding pines so dense the afternoon sun became a rumor filtered through needles. The road narrowed to a single hesitant lane, swallowed by canopy until it felt less like driving and more like threading a needle in the dark.

Yellow signs began appearing like nervous sentinels:

DEAD END – 2 MILES ROAD ENDS AHEAD

PRIVATE PROPERTY – TURN BACK NOW

We ignored them with the polite contempt usually reserved for expired parking tickets.

The warnings grew more theatrical:

DANGER – CLIFF AHEAD

NO TRESPASSING – VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT

LAST WARNING.

The trees finally spat us out.

And there it was.

The cliff.

Not a cliff so much as a declaration of war against geology. A sheer knife-edge of granite dropping into oblivion, so clean it looked like the planet had been sliced open with surgical spite. Beyond the lip: nothing but sky that seemed to be infinite.

Below: a chasm so deep the bottom drowned in perpetual twilight, mist curling like smoke from something ancient and impatient.

We killed the engines.

Silence landed hard—only wind moaning across stone and the faint, far-off screams of gulls circling somewhere in the dark below.

Soo-Jin dismounted first. Helmet off. Hair spilling like ink. She walked to the edge with the calm of someone who’d already stared down worse monsters than gravity. A drop was just physics. Physics could be reasoned with.

She stopped at the very lip. Looked down.

And something in her posture changed.

The blackness wasn’t passive. It watched. Hungered. Reached. Not with hands—nothing so crude—but with absence itself, a void that felt personally offended by the fact she still existed on solid ground.

Her head tilted. A faint tremor ran through her shoulders.

Jump.

The word didn’t arrive through ears. It bloomed inside her skull like pressure from deep water. Soft. Reasonable. Inevitable.

Fall.

Let go.

Her weight shifted forward—half an inch, maybe less. Enough.

Then pain lanced through her temples—bright, surgical, the kind of spike that says not today. She staggered back, one hand clamped to her forehead, the other groping for balance. Vision swam. Horizon tilted drunkenly.

For a heartbeat she couldn’t tell whether the cliff was falling or she was.

She turned. Walked back on legs that hadn’t quite remembered how to work. Face pale. Eyes wide with something that wasn’t quite fear—more like the aftershock of recognition.

She shook her head once. Dead end.

But the tremor in her hands told a different story.

Madison’s arms cinched tighter around my waist. "Peter..."

I smiled into the wind.

"Get behind me," I said. "Hold on."

"What are you—"

"Trust me."

We shifted. She slid behind, chest to my back, arms wrapping my torso, fingers locking over my sternum like she was bracing for impact or prayer—maybe both. Her heartbeat hammered against my spine: fast, alive, unafraid in the way only people who’ve already chosen you can be.

That was love, distilled to pulse and pressure.

"Strap engage."

"Peter!" Soo-Jin’s voice cracked across the wind, raw with something close to panic. "What the hell are you—STOP!"

Soo-Jin’s scream chased us—"PETER! THERE’S NOTHING—"

It burped.

My skin prickled. Every nerve lit up—not pain, but hyper-awareness. I could feel the precise lattice of carbon in my bones, the dance of electrons in my blood, the razor-thin line between here and gone.

pop.

My ears throbbed like I’d rocket-surfaced from the Mariana Trench without decompression stops. Pressure still hammered the drums; every sound felt muffled and too loud at the same time. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Ancient oaks marched along the path—trunks thicker than most people’s egos, branches weaving overhead into a leafy cathedral that turned afternoon sunlight into golden prison bars stabbing down at us.

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