Chapter 3 Are You Throwing Yourself To Me

Rising nine stories above the city, the Laurel Club reserved its top floor exclusively for Kellan Wright, the leader of Horizon Group, who treated it as both his personal office and private retreat and rarely bothered returning to his villa.

Among the upper circles of Wruosas, the Laurel Club was spoken of with open envy, yet its doors never welcomed outsiders. Rumors flowed endlessly through the city, hinting that countless women were kept there solely to satisfy Kellan's indulgences.

Outside her assigned room, Avery swiped her key card again and again, and each attempt was answered with an irritating beep. She clicked her tongue, lifted her gaze toward the surveillance camera above, and let a faint smile curve her lips.

Without waiting another second, she drove her foot into the door, striking it repeatedly until the frame warped and the lock finally gave way with a dull snap.

The card was flicked aside as she muttered, "What a pain."

She shrugged out of her black leather jacket, loosened the collar at her throat, and slipped off her shoes before crossing the room barefoot toward the bed. Beyond the glass, mist clung to the night sky, and scattered stars glimmered faintly through the haze.

Her eyes landed on the ornate pack of cigarettes resting on the table, and she drew one out before taking a long drag as her thoughts drifted backward in time.

Two years ago, she had spoken her vow with unwavering resolve. "To fight crime and defend the lawful rights of citizens, I will bury my identity and walk among the enemy. No matter the cost, I will uphold justice and the law."

Time had passed faster than she ever expected, and two years vanished like a breath.

A sharp click at the door shattered her reflection. Her hand moved beneath the pillow on instinct, but it found nothing there, and she froze for several seconds as tension crept into her spine.

For a split second, Avery forgot where she was, mistaking the space for her quiet villa on the outskirts instead of a high end suite inside Laurel Club.

Reality snapped back just as fast. The door was already compromised, and anyone could enter without obstacles.

She shot to her feet, muscles coiled tight, every nerve alert like a predator sensing danger.

In the darkness, a man walked in, his face remaining unrecognizable. Heavy footsteps crossed the wooden floor with purpose, each step slow, controlled, and deliberate.

Positioned in the corner, Avery held her breath and waited. The instant he moved close enough, she surged forward and clamped a hand around his throat, but the advantage vanished in a blink as he countered with brutal speed.

Air was cut off as his grip closed around her neck, and heat rushed to her face while she clawed at his fingers in panic. Strength drained from her limbs no matter how hard she struggled, and she could not force him to loosen his hold.

Her sight began to smear and blur, shapes dissolving into haze as if her thoughts were being torn apart by a violent gust.

Even so, surrender never crossed her mind. She still had a mission to finish.

Pain exploded through her senses as she bit down on her finger, and the sharp jolt dragged her awareness back from the edge.

Without thinking, she slipped off her cufflinks and swung her free hand upward, driving the sharpened edge toward his chest.

He twisted aside at the last moment and released her throat, and Avery collapsed onto the floor, sucking in air before throwing herself forward again.

Light flooded the room all at once, and a wave of black suited bodyguards rushed in through the doorway, filling the space in seconds.

"Enough. Stand down," the leader shouted.

Avery halted in place and swept her gaze across the figures in front of her, measuring every movement with guarded focus.

Standing closest was a man wrapped in a black silk robe that hung loosely from his frame, the fabric barely secured at his waist and exposing pale skin that stood in stark contrast to Avery's sun darkened tone.

Authority clung to him without effort. His eyes cut sharp and intent like a predator locking onto prey, and his tall frame filled the room with a pressure that was impossible to ignore.

Lifting her chin, Avery met his stare head on and asked evenly, "Who are you?"

Silence answered her at first, and his expression remained distant, stripped of any warmth.

Outrage erupted from the leader as he barked, "Watch your tone. Our boss owes you no explanation. Get on your knees!"

Avery spat blood onto the floor, chuckling coldly. "Who do you think you are, breaking into my room and demanding I surrender? Handsome, you are really enjoying the power trip, aren't you?"

As the confronter, Kellan, stepped closer, a faint, unfamiliar scent brushed past him, and the sensation froze him in place for a heartbeat. He had believed for years that his senses had dulled beyond recovery.

Hearing such a bold, careless tone come from the "man" standing before him only deepened his irritation.

He dropped the disinfectant wipe from his hand and spoke in a calm, icy voice. "You do not need my name. All you need to understand is that provoking me is a mistake you will regret."

The nerve of this man was almost impressive. A crooked smile tugged at Avery's mouth as a dangerous glint surfaced in her eyes, and her fingers closed more firmly around the cufflink in her hand.

What looked like an ordinary accessory was actually a custom folding blade, built to disable quickly rather than kill.

The slight shift did not escape Kellan's notice. His gaze sharpened, and one brow lifted with mild interest as he said, "Still not surrendering?"

A short laugh slipped from Avery as she tilted her head. "You wish!"

Her expression hardened without warning. In the same breath, her wrist snapped forward, and the blade shot from her hand toward Kellan's throat, fast enough to draw startled gasps from everyone in the room.

But he just stepped aside with lazy precision, letting the weapon skim past his hair before it struck the wall behind him and dropped to the floor with a metallic ring.

Before Avery could fully register what happened, Kellan was already at her back, and the cold press of a compact gun settled against her head.

Even with the barrel kissing her hair, she turned her head slightly and looked at him with open disdain. A short scoff followed, saying, "I already told you this is my room. Showing up uninvited this late. What, are you throwing yourself to me?"