Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111: We Have Never Fu*ked a Single Time

The front doors of the Grefo mansion groaned open, allowing the freezing, midnight air to spill into the grand foyer.

Inside, the atmosphere was instantly thick with a suffocating, silent tension. Joanne and Damian were sitting in the central lounge area, resting while they waited, their expressions perfectly schooled into masks of casual detachment. The moment the doors parted, their eyes snapped toward the incoming group.

Jannah was being carried in Shadron’s arms. During the short drive from the upper-district hospital, Shadron had reasoned with his friend, pointing out that if Dorrent carried the herbalist across the threshold himself, it would look like the billionaire tycoon cared about her to an unnatural degree. It would bring immediate, devastating doubts to Joanne’s mind and expose his vulnerability. Dorrent had ultimately allowed the arrangement, though his inner Alpha had absolutely loathed the decision, his silver eyes burning holes into Shadron’s back the entire time.

The moment Damian saw Jannah’s fragile form wrapped in Dorrent’s heavy outer coat, his possessive instincts took over. He stood up rapidly, his footsteps echoing sharply against the polished floor as he approached.

"Hand her over to me immediately," Damian commanded, his voice tight and professional as he smoothly took Jannah’s limp body from Shadron’s grip, carefully supporting her plastered right hand and bandaged ribs. He looked directly at Dorrent, his eyes narrowing. "Where exactly should she be taken for the primary phase of the volumetric treatment?"

Dorrent stood rigid, his fists clenching so hard inside his pockets that his knuckles popped in the quiet foyer. He hated every single millisecond of another Alpha touching her skin, but he forced his voice into a cold, flat register. "There is a fully equipped medical bed inside her private quarters upstairs." Dorrent raised a hand, pointing toward the grand staircase. "The room is positioned right next to my master suite. Take her there now."

Without waiting for another word, Damian turned and carried the unconscious, shivering girl up the stairs. Exhausted by the crushing weight of the night’s shadow war, the rest of the group silently headed toward their respective rooms upstairs to seek whatever temporary relief they could find.

Dorrent marched straight into his master bedroom, the doors shutting with a sharp, echoing click. Joanne followed closely behind him, her tight crimson dress rustling against the quiet air of the private suite. Without acknowledging her presence for a single second, Dorrent immediately began shedding his formal attire, tearing off his cufflinks and changing into a dark, casual silk shirt. His face was a hard, unyielding mask of absolute restlessness. He didn’t sit down; instead, he immediately pivoted back toward the exit, his large frame projecting a dangerous, predatory urgency.

Before his hand could even touch the brass doorknob, Joanne lunged forward. Her manicured fingers grabbed his muscular arm with fierce, desperate strength, physically halting his advance.

"Where on earth do you think you are heading at this hour, Dorrent?" Joanne demanded, her smooth voice carrying a sharp, defensive edge as she stared up at his rigid profile.

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