Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Trailing Jannah

The luxury hover-transport sliced through the neon-drenched night like a ghost, its headlights killed, trailing the battered taxi at a calculated distance. Dorrent’s eyes were narrowed into lethal slits, tracking the crimson taillights of the cab as it navigated away from the bustling town square, weaving deep into the high-end residential towers of the upper sector.

His chest heaved, a cold, violent jealousy churning in his stomach. My boyfriend’s place. The phrase was a toxic loop in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of Jannah’s porcelain skin, her fragile waist, and the haunting melody she had sung being offered to some common, faceless entity in the dark. His instincts screamed at the thought of another man laying hands on the filthy omega.

The taxi finally slowed, pulling into the private, cobblestone driveway of a towering, ultra-modern penthouse complex. Dorrent brought his vehicle to a silent halt under the shadow of a sprawling oak tree across the street. He watched through the darkened windshield as Jannah stepped out of the cab, pulling her dark trench coat tightly around her frame, before disappearing through the glass double doors of the lobby.

Dorrent bypassed the security matrix using his personal executive override, stepping into the private elevator lines. He watched the digital floor indicator climb rapidly, his pulse throbbing in his neck. When the lift chimed and the doors slid open on the topmost floor, he stepped onto the plush, acoustic-dampening carpet, his eyes scanning the corridor to see which door she would enter.

She stood at the end of the hall, entering a sleek, matte-black door with a biometric silver handle.

Dorrent froze in the middle of the hallway, the breath completely leaving his lungs. A cold shockwave ripped straight through his nervous system. He knew that door. He knew that biometric signature. It was the private penthouse of Shadron Valerius—his most trusted best friend.

Shadron? Dorrent’s mind reeled, his thoughts colliding in a chaotic mess of disbelief and betrayal. She was talking about Shadron? My best friend is the one she’s running to? The one who was just bidding for her in the plaza?

Driven by a raw, unhinged fury, Dorrent strode down the corridor, his boots sinking into the carpet. As he drew closer to the door, a sudden, heavy sound cut through the reinforced wood.

Loud, uninhibited moans were echoing from inside the apartment.

Dorrent stopped, his hand hovering over the biometric sensor. The sounds were unmistakable—the wet, rhythmic slaps of flesh against skin, the desperate, heavy gasping of two people locked in a gruesome, passionately violent encounter. A woman’s voice was moaning out loud, a high, breathless pitch of pure pleasure that vibrated through the frame of the door.

The sound was a knife to Dorrent’s S-tier pride. The thought of his best friend claiming the girl from the slums, breaking through her untouchable facade while he stood outside, biologically dead, was a humiliation too great to bear. He didn’t lock-pick; he didn’t wait. He slammed his palm against the emergency bypass, forcing the heavy matte-black door to swing wide open without a knock.

He burst into the penthouse, his Alpha energy flaring aggressively, ready to tear the room apart.

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