Penelope Astor strutted into the room. She wore a blood-red designer dress and carried a limited-edition Birkin bag. She was Aron's cousin, and she wore her entitlement like a crown.

Penelope immediately pinched her nose, her face twisting in disgust. "God, it smells like a morgue in here."

Her eyes swept the room and landed on Ayla.

Penelope took in Ayla's wet hair, her plain black turtleneck, and the lack of any visible designer logos. Her upper lip curled into a sneer.

"Morgan," Penelope snapped, her voice shrill. "Why is there a stray dog in my cousin's room? Did the cleaning staff get lost?"

Penelope marched right up to Ayla. She raised her hand, aiming a hard shove at Ayla's shoulder to push her out of the way.

"Move, trash."

Ayla's eyes went dead.

She didn't step back. As Penelope's hand came down, Ayla shifted her weight slightly. Her hand shot out like a striking viper.

She clamped her fingers around Penelope's wrist.

With a sharp, brutal twist, Ayla locked the joint.

A sickening pop echoed in the room.

Penelope let out a blood-curdling scream. Her knees buckled under the intense pain, and she dropped to the floor, her designer bag spilling across the tiles.

Ayla released her grip, letting Penelope's arm drop like a piece of garbage.

Penelope cradled her wrist, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at the bed. "Aron! Did you see what this bitch just did to me?!"

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Aron wasn't looking at Penelope. His face was a mask of pure, terrifying rage. The veins in his neck throbbed.

He looked at Morgan.

"What the hell is security doing?" Aron's voice was a lethal whisper. "Why is this garbage in my room?"

Penelope froze, her crying instantly cutting off. She stared at Aron in utter disbelief.

"Throw her out," Aron commanded, not sparing his cousin a single glance. "Revoke her access to the estate. If she ever steps foot on my property again, break her other arm."

"Aron! I'm your family!" Penelope shrieked, her face pale with terror.

Morgan didn't hesitate. He grabbed Penelope by the back of her expensive dress, hauling her up like a ragdoll. He dragged her kicking and screaming out of the room.

The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off her hysterical cries.

Aron turned his head back to Ayla. The murderous rage in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a calm, almost gentle warmth.

"I apologize for the interruption," Aron said smoothly. "You were saying?"

Ayla watched him for a second. She liked how he handled things. Brutal. Efficient.

She stepped closer to the bed.

"I want Compound X-7," Ayla said.

Aron's fingers stopped tapping on the bedsheets. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Compound X-7 was a highly classified, military-grade biological agent developed in one of his underground labs. It wasn't something money could buy. It wasn't something anyone outside his inner circle should even know about.

Silence stretched between them. Aron was calculating the risk, weighing the danger of this girl against the miracle she had just performed.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Aron's face.

"If you get me out of this chair," Aron said, his voice thick with a promise, "I won't just give you the compound. I'll give you the whole damn lab."

Ayla's lips twitched upward in a rare, genuine smirk.

She raised her hand. Aron met it. Their palms slapped together, sealing the contract.

Ayla picked up her case, turned on her heel, and walked out the door, leaving the king of New York staring at her back. She pulled out her encrypted phone, dialing a familiar number. "Clotilde," Ayla said softly as the line connected. "Pack your bags. We're going back to Nevada. It's time to settle the old debts and finish what they started."

Chapter 5

You might like