Sherina's POV
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Every step Prince took rattled through my bones, his arm an iron cage around my waist. My body betrayed me—weak, trembling, aflame from the poison he had slipped into my veins.
"You'll cry beautifully for me tonight."
His voice was a knife. My chest tightened until I could hardly breathe, I closed my eyes. A part of me wanted to collapse, to surrender, because fighting seemed useless.
Betrayal seared deeper than the drug in my blood, a wound far crueler than any poison.
And then—
Silence.
The laughter in the corridor died as though the world itself forgot how to breathe. The air thickened, heavy, every sound swallowed into nothing.
A single set of footsteps echoed through the stillness. Not hurried. Not hesitant. Slow. Deliberate.
A predator's stride—each step carrying weight, authority, inevitability.
The atmosphere shifted violently.
I felt it in Prince's body—the subtle falter in his grip on my waist, the sharp intake of breath he tried to hide.
For the first time, he trembled.
But my consciousness betrayed me. Dizziness pulled me under. My skin burned, my breath came ragged and shallow. Prince blurred into nothing. The world went dark, cold, frightening.
Until—
Something pulled me back.
A faint scent—wood, something deep and earthy, achingly familiar.
My body recognized it before my mind did. That scent was safety. That scent was home.
I forced my eyes open.
And there he was.
Tall. Intimidating. Cold. Yet my heart eased the instant I saw him.
But something was different. His face was not the one I had grown used to, not the one that listened quietly when I spoke, or softened in fleeting moments when no one watched. His face now was carved from fury, his aura seething with madness, anger pouring off him like a storm.
Yet his arms—trembling from restrained rage—still held me with unbearable warmth. One arm cradled my back, the other slipped beneath my legs, carrying me as though I were something fragile he refused to let break. A coat was draped around me, heavy and shielding, his silent promise of protection.
But instead of calming me, the closeness made everything worse.
Instead of soothing, it worsened the fire ravaging me.
Every point where his body touched mine ignited into an unbearable heat—his chest against my cheek, his arms around me, the steady thrum of his heartbeat pulsing into mine.
The drug was cruel.
It twisted my desperation, my longing, into something darker.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
I only felt him.
I couldn't take it.
With trembling resolve, I lifted one weak hand, fingers clutching at the collar of his suit. I pulled him down to me.
My lips found his—desperate, hungry, reckless.
The kiss shattered the world into silence. His furious expression froze, his breath halted, his body locked.
Everything—anger, noise, fear—stopped.
I broke the kiss, gasping, my chest rising in frantic heaves.
But the moment his mouth had touched mine, the fire inside me had shifted—eased, if only a fraction.
And I needed more. It tethered me to something real, something I craved beyond reason.
"I…" My voice was a trembling whisper between ragged breaths.
My skin was slick with sweat, my heart racing uncontrollably.
"badly want you…"
The words spilled out, fragile, uncertain. Maybe he hadn't even heard them.
But I couldn't stop. With what strength I had, my fingers slid to the nape of his neck, forcing his gaze down to mine.
My eyes, though blurred with tears and exhaustion, begged him to see me—only me.
"I want you…" My voice cracked, soft yet desperate.
"Now."
For a heartbeat, I thought he might shatter with me. But he didn't move. His jaw clenched, his eyes burned into me with a darkness I couldn't read.
And in that unbearable silence, my heart trembled.
Was he disgusted? Shocked? Or was he fighting the same storm that threatened to consume me whole?
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End of POV
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Leon's POV
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I sat in silence, eyes fixed on the glittering hotel beside the car. The night should have been calm, but inside me there was a storm clawing at its cage.
Minho sat at the driver's seat—calm, collected, but I knew he was listening to every breath I drew.
The man approached.
Without a word, Minho lowered the glass just a slit, enough for a voice to slip through.
"Young Master, Ms. Sze's not inside."
The words rang like a bell in my skull.
'Not inside?'
The last report said she was escorted safely to the party by the bastard's driver.
"Fuck—" The curse fell from my lips before I could stop it. My chest tightened, a cold fury flooding my veins.
"Get everyone. Search the hotel. NOW!"
The man bowed sharply and vanished into the night.
My fingers drummed against my arms as I crossed them tight over my chest, trying to cage in the rage surging inside me
'Just try, bastard. Lay a hand on her, and I'll cut off every finger you own.'
I couldn't stay in the car any longer. My body moved before my mind caught up. The moment my men gathered, I shoved the door open and strode into the hotel, my men falling into step behind me, weapons in hand, shadows of my wrath.
We stormed the hotel. The hall froze in shock—the music stopped, glasses halted midair, eyes wide with fear as my men swarmed, checking every corner.
But she wasn't there.
The cold in my veins thickened into pure fire, a pulse pounding at my temple.
My instincts dragged me down a corridor, darker, emptier, the kind of place where devils whispered.
And then—
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"You'll cry beautifully for me tonight."
The words slithered through the dark like poison.
My hands clenched so hard my knuckles cracked.
Hearing him whisper such filth into her ear was a death sentence.
And then I saw her—thrown over his shoulder like nothing but prey. His hand roamed over her calf, her waist, fingers where they did not belong.
My fury exploded, sharp and merciless.
Before he could take another step, I was already there, My gun was already leveled at his forehead
The hyenas with him froze, laughter choking in their throats when they saw me.
Even he—the bastard who dared touch her—trembled under my aim.
"Don't. Touch. Her."
My voice was a razor's edge. No plea. No warning. Just the promise of death.
My men aimed their weapons at his pack of hyenas. I shoved my gun into the hand of the man behind me, my rage too great to waste on a trigger.
Instead, I stripped off my coat and draped it over her—protecting her even as she hung in that bastard's grasp. In the same breath, I wrenched her free, pulling her into my arms, away from those filthy hands.
She felt small against me, trembling, breath ragged, sweat slick on her temple. Her lashes clung together with unshed tears. My chest twisted. Each tremor of her body was a knife in my ribs.
I tightened my grip on her thighs, swallowing down the order screaming in my throat to have every man in front of me shot on sight, I wanted to order their execution, make them scream,
But not here. Not in front of her.
It killed me. Every second of seeing her like this killed me.
I turned, carrying her from that circle of beasts, my men still holding their ground.
I held her tighter, my arm locked under her legs, pressing her close to my chest as if by holding her strong enough, I could erase the memory of their hands on her.
The world froze around us—until she moved.
Her fingers curled into my collar and, before I could react, she pulled me down—Her lips crashed against mine, searing and desperate, tasting of salt and tears.
The only person who's ever had the power to make me stop breathing…
was her.
But she wasn't done. Her hand slid up the back of my neck, nails grazing my skin, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
Her eyes burned into mine with a command no man could ever refuse.
"I…" She tried, her voice cracked and trembling, but her eyes begged me to hear.
"Badly want you…"
The whimper slipped past her lips, small but sharp enough to pierce straight into me.
But she wasn't satisfied, she drew strength from some hidden fire, raising her voice—clear, unashamed, trembling.
"I want you… NOW!"
The words echoed, louder than gunfire.
Every wall I had built shattered.
Every restraint I had forged turned to ash.
Doubts drowned, thoughts silenced,
Every defense I had left caved in
My world stopped.
Her words drowned everything.
She wanted me. Now.
My blood burned, thick with hunger, my pulse a war drum in my ears. The weight of her in my arms was unbearable, too delicate yet too intoxicating.
The men, the weapons, the danger—it all blurred to nothing. There was only her. Only us. And when she raised her voice, bold and unyielding, claiming me before the world, the chains I had wrapped around myself snapped.
I've been waiting for this. Waiting for her honesty, for her surrender, for her to tear down her own walls and hand herself to me with no fear.
And now she had.
And in that moment, I knew—I wouldn't hold back anymore.
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I wasted no time. Carrying her like treasure pulled from the claws of beasts, I stormed out of that place. Every step I took was fast, merciless, my coat wrapped tight around her trembling body.
At the entrance, Minho was already waiting. His usual calm expression faltered, his eyes widening at the sight of Sherina clinging to me, her face pale, lips parted, her breaths uneven.
He fell in step behind me, but I didn't slow.
"Minho," My voice cut sharp, cold steel through the night,
"Take everything from Smith's Company. Strip him of his empire. Make sure that so-called Prince of Smith's is remembered as nothing but the prince of bastards."
For a split second, Minho faltered—surprised at the sheer venom in my order—but then he bowed his head.
"As you wish." No hesitation.
One of my men rushed to open the back door. I slid inside without breaking stride, still cradling her against me. My arms were wrapped around her like she was fragile glass, though the fire she carried in her veins could burn me whole.
Minho moved quickly to the driver's seat, starting the engine.
"My place," I muttered.
His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
"Pardon? Your penthouse… or your private residence?"
I didn't answer immediately—my gaze was glued to Sherina. She trembled in my hold, chest rising and falling too fast, her small hand fisting my collar like I was the only lifeline she had left. Her eyes were still shut, lashes damp with sweat and tears.
"Hurry…" Her whimper was barely a breath, small enough for only me to hear.
I cupped her burning cheeks with my palm, my thumb brushing over her damp skin. My voice came low, rough.
"That penthouse isn't mine," I said.
"It's hers."
That was enough for Minho. He understood instantly, and the car roared forward.
I reached up and slid the partition closed, cutting the world away until only she and I remained.
As soon as the glass sealed us in, she stirred—like the flame inside her had been waiting for the moment we were alone. She shifted onto my lap in one urgent movement, straddling me, her knees pressing into either side of my thighs, her arms curling tight around my neck.
My breath caught.
And then her lips crashed into mine. Hungry. Desperate. Raw.
I groaned, the sound torn from deep in my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, one hand sliding down to seize her waist, the other tangling in her hair, guiding her closer, deeper.
Our mouths clashed, her lips parting against mine, her tongue brushing mine with feverish demand.
When she broke the kiss, my head spun. The taste of her was still burning on my tongue, and I couldn't stop chasing her mouth, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths colliding.
The city lights streaked by outside, the car speeding through the night, but in here—there was nothing but her fire consuming me alive.
I pressed my lips to her cheek, whispering against her skin,
"At least… say the name of the man you want tonight."
A smirk pulled at my lips, though inside I was unraveling, my storm breaking loose.
Her answer came with no hesitation, her voice trembling but fierce.
"Leon."
Her burning gaze locked on mine, her lips parted, her breath hot and ragged.
"I want a man…" she panted, her small hand finding mine where it cupped her cheek, guiding it closer as she leaned into my palm.
"…whose name is Leon Hak."
The sound of my own name on her lips made every vein in my body stiffen, every muscle tense.
I trembled—not with weakness, but with the unbearable force of restraint snapping thread by thread.
"You…" My voice cracked, hoarse, nearly breaking.
"You've done this scheme to me twice already. And every time—I still take the bite."
I seized her face, dragging her closer, inhaling the ragged heat of her breath like it was the only oxygen I needed.
My lips brushed hers but didn't close the distance—torture for both of us.
"Do you know," I growled, my hand sliding down, clutching her waist tight,
"how painful it is… knowing you only crave me when you're like this?"
Her body shivered in my arms.
"I crave you," my voice was rough, breaking, raw,
"every single day. Every damn second. Yet you only want me when you're at your weakest."
My grip on her waist tightened, dragging her flush against me, her heat burning through layers of fabric.
And I realized—I was seconds away from breaking completely.
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