Vengeance in His Bed

The gates of the Grefo estate ground open with a rumble as the sedan swerved into the courtyard. The moment the vehicle screeched to a halt under the blinding floodlights of the main portico, the door was pulled open from the outside.

Guron Grefo stood tall on the steps, his arms crossed behind his back, his sharp features carved into a mask of cold authority. He had just received a hysterical phone call from Himelda, who had detailed the entire bloody disaster at the graveyard sector lines. As Dorrent slid out of the backseat—his shirt torn to ribbons, exposing the blood-soaked bandages hastily wrapped around his chest—Guron’s eyes cataloged the damage without a single flicker of paternal panic.

Jannah stepped out right behind him, her small frame rigid, her face pale, and her fingers desperately clutching the hem of the short dress that she thoroughly detested.

Guron’s heavy gaze instantly shifted away from his wounded son and locked directly onto Jannah’s form. "You shouldn’t even dream of leaving the perimeter of this estate without a full tactical protection detail again, Jannah," Guron delivered, his deep baritone cutting through the cool night air. "The metrics have completely mutated out there. You are wanted by some wretched scumbags from the syndicates who are hunting you. From this moment on, you will stay strictly within the boundaries where the Grefo security infrastructure can shield you. And while you are locked inside these walls..." Guron paused, his eyes drifting down to Dorrent’s torso before snapping back to her face. "...you might as well take full responsibility for taking care of Dorrent. He is, after all, your soon-to-be husband."

Jannah let out a sharp, venomous laugh that dripped with disdain, her eyes flashing with a dangerous fire as she stepped closer to the towering patriarch. "Oh, don’t you worry, Alpha Guron," she hissed, her teeth grinding together in defiance. "I will take great care of him. I will take care of dragging your monstrous son straight to hell with my own two hands, and I will personally see to it that I watch his final breath leave his body. I will see to his death."

Guron’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice dropping into a harsh, freezing register. "You shouldn’t speak so casually about the death of the man who literally just took a barrage of bullets to save your fragile life, girl. He severely injured his own system tonight solely to keep you from being dragged into a cellar."

"I never asked for his primitive protection!" Jannah fired back, her voice echoing sharply off the stone pillars. "I would have rather been—"

"How dare you?!"

The doors of the mansion slammed open, and Himelda Grefo marched out onto the portico, her facade completely shattered into pieces. Her eyes were red-rimmed with tears, and her expensive diamond jewelry clinked erratically against her wrists as she descended the steps, having overheard Jannah’s vicious declaration. She lunged forward, pointing a shaking finger right at Jannah’s face.

"How can you stand there and say something so utterly monstrous when you have just put my son’s life in extreme, fatal danger?!" Himelda shrieked, her voice cracking with fury. "Look at him! He is bleeding through his clothes because of your slum drama! Aren’t you even a single bit remorseful, you ungrateful gutter rat?! You are being completely heartless! This right here is the absolute, definitive reason why you should never be allowed to get married to my son! You are a curse to this lineage!"

Himelda spun around on her heels, turning her face toward Dorrent, who was leaning casually against the side of the car, completely unfazed by his state. "Dorrent, look at her! Listen to her words! How can you even think of marrying a woman who clothes herself in so much hatred for your name?! She is a ticking time bomb! She might literally stab you through the heart while you sleep in your own bed!"

Himelda stepped closer to her son, her hands clutching his shoulder desperately. "If this whole suicidal madness is only about satisfying your physical urges... if it’s only about sex, Dorrent, you can absolutely live without it! Celibacy is better than a coffin! You can live without her in your bed bed rather than risking your life by letting this viper become your wife! If you keep her here, she will kill you!"

Dorrent let out a deep, gravelly chuckle that vibrated low in his chest, an arrogant smirk cutting across his lips as he casually reached down to adjust the cuffs of his ruined shirt. His eyes flashed with a feral amusement as they locked dead onto Jannah’s rigid posture.

"I can’t live without sex, Mother," Dorrent delivered smoothly."Celibacy is a word that has never existed in my vocabulary, and it never will. And as for Jannah successfully killing me..." He leaned his upper body slightly forward, his eyes locking onto the fierce, stubborn glare of the slum girl. "...I would honestly love to see her try it. It would be an incredibly entertaining layout."

Guron stepped between his wife and his son, his expression perfectly stoic as he placed a grounding hand on Himelda’s trembling arm. "Don’t waste your energy worrying yourself about your son’s survival, Himelda. Dorrent is an S-tier tyrant; he is not that easy to kill by anybody. And besides... in the history of our lineage, a relationship built entirely on volatile hatred only becomes a thousand times stronger and more unbreakable once the biology shifts and they inevitably fall in love. Let them play their game."

"I am completely tired of the two of you!" Himelda snapped, violently pulling her arm away from Guron’s grip. She gathered the skirts of her gown, her face twisting into exhaustion and disgust. "I won’t have a single bite of dinner with any of you today. Keep your disgusting slum metrics out of my sight."

She turned and headed rapidly upstairs toward their bedroom suite, her heels clicking like gunfire against the steps. Guron let out a heavy sigh, taking a step toward the grand foyer. "Himelda, stop all this unnecessary drama this instant," he commanded over his shoulder.

Himelda paused at the top of the staircase, spinning around to hurl one final, bitter look down at the lounge. "We are not the ones causing the drama, Guron! You and your psychotic son are the ones tearing this family apart for a slum rat!" With a resounding slam, the doors shut behind her, leaving the lower floor in a suffocating silence.

Shadron, who had been standing silently by the entrance after tossing the car keys to a valet, suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, his eyes dropping to the glowing screen. A message from Joanne Moscow flashed across the display.

"I need to meet you tomorrow afternoon. Deserted rooftop, western sector lines. Don’t tell Dorrent."