The soundproofed walls of Martin Irving’s lavish room offered no warning as Ethan stormed in. Alice’s figure, bound and vulnerable on the bed, was the first thing he saw. His heart clenched, but he didn’t let the rage that surged through him cloud his focus. Martin was too busy setting up a camera in the corner, unaware of the impending storm.
Afterward, he planned to let his men have their way with her. Only by humiliating Alice completely would he feel that he had avenged Carl.
As the door slammed open, Martin’s head snapped toward the intruder. His eyes widened in disbelief, quickly followed by a seething fury.
“How dare you—! How did you—?” Martin’s voice cracked as he looked at the bodies of his men sprawled across the villa. He hadn’t heard the gunfight outside due to the thick, soundproof walls, and now this… this filthy man had somehow bypassed all his defenses. His mind scrambled to comprehend the impossibility of it.
Ethan took a step forward, a cruel sneer curling his lips. “Your guards are dead. And you’re next.”
Martin’s hand shot out instinctively, reaching for the drawer where he kept his emergency handgun. His fingers barely brushed the cold metal of the handle before a sharp crack echoed through the room. Martin screamed in agony as the bullet tore through his hand, knocking the gun out of his grasp.
“Who the hell are you?!” Martin howled, his face contorted in pain and panic. His legs buckled, but he struggled to stay upright, crawling backward toward the wall. “What do you want from me?!”
Ethan’s voice was cold, methodical. “I just taught Carl a lesson.” He paused, watching as Martin’s face paled with recognition. “I didn’t expect you to still have the guts to mess with me.”
Martin’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. The demon who had crippled his son stood in front of him—unbelievable, unstoppable. The man who had devastated everything Martin held dear. His heart raced, and he trembled with fear.
“No, no, no… Please… I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” Martin’s voice cracked as he begged. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest, his breaths ragged. “I made a mistake! Please! Don’t—don’t kill me! I understand now! I never should’ve crossed you!”
Ethan crouched down, his gaze fixed on Martin with cold amusement. He watched the man writhe on the floor, eyes darting around in desperation as he tried to find a way out. Ethan let out a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t kind.
“You don’t get it,” Ethan said, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. “You didn’t just cross me, Martin. You crossed the line. And now you’re gonna pay.”
Terror gripped Martin’s chest. His mouth moved, but no words came out. He knew he was done for. He was a dead man walking.
“It’s me,” he murmured, his eyes softening as he stroked her hair back from her face. “You’re safe now.”
He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her with ease despite the weight of the situation. There was no time to waste. They needed to get out of there before anyone else came to investigate the noise.
Ethan made his way back through the villa, his senses alert as he moved past the dead bodies of Martin’s men. The adrenaline was still flowing through him, but now there was a focus in his movements—Alice needed help, and he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of making sure she was safe.
He exited through the front door, his feet pounding against the stone steps.
His mind raced—he needed to get her to the only place that mattered right now: his own safe villa.
My

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