Deadly Queen Unleashed: The Underworld Bends To My Will

"Hannah, the boat is over capacity! We're going to flip! You have to jump!" Jake Oliver shouted at Hannah Oliver, his voice tight with panic. "If you stay, you'll drown every last one of us! Help is on the way-you only need to tread water for a few minutes!"

Surrounded by a violent, churning sea, the overcrowded lifeboat bucked against the towering waves, teetering on the verge of disaster.

Slamming into the hull, another massive swell nearly pitched Hannah overboard; she gripped the railing with white-knuckled desperation to stay topside.

Notably, every passenger was strapped into a bright orange life vest-everyone except her.

Fixing her third elder brother, Jake, with a piercing, lethal glare, Hannah responded in a voice like ice, "Why don't you jump? I don't know how to swim."

Wrestling with his own terror, Jake hissed through clenched teeth, "If you hadn't forced your way onto this trip, we wouldn't be over the limit."

"Brett insisted I join. Do you honestly believe I wanted to be in your company?"

Though her skin was ashen from the biting cold and lingering fear, Hannah didn't bother to mask the sheer contempt in her tone.

Hidden beneath her current exterior was a titan of the criminal underworld; following a near-fatal betrayal a year ago, she desperately needed a cover to heal in secret. Consequently, when the Oliver family surfaced to claim her as long-lost kin, she took the opening to vanish from the criminal world.

Unfortunately, the homecoming was ruined when Lainey Oliver, the family's adopted daughter, staged a fall down the stairs by Hannah. The stunt worked, instantly turning the Olivers against her.

Following that first incident, the year was a blur of sabotage and slander from Lainey. Despite Hannah's numerous attempts to prove her innocence, she remained a pariah, with only her eldest brother, Brett Oliver, showing her a shred of human kindness.

Musing on her situation, she knew her subordinates would be hysterical if they saw her now-how had Nebula, the world's most feared assassin, become a punching bag for the Oliver family?

Interjecting with a frail, tear-filled voice, Lainey whimpered, "No, I'll be the one to go. I'll sacrifice myself so you can survive. Just... Please don't forget me."

"No!"

"Don't do that!"

Jake and Hannah's fiance, Kenneth Warren, bellowed the rejection in perfect sync.

Kenneth instinctively caught Lainey's arm, his eyes burning with pure animosity as he rounded on Hannah.

"You played on Lainey's selflessness, knowing she'd offer herself up, didn't you?" Kenneth's chest heaved, his features twisted in a grimace of utter degradation. "Fine, Hannah! You win. Your pathetic little trap worked. Get off this boat this instant, and I'll give you the marriage you've been so desperate for the second I return."

The sheer absurdity of his words made Hannah wonder if her hearing had finally failed her.

On paper, Kenneth was her fiance, yet in reality, he had spent every waking moment serving as Lainey's self-appointed knight.

A sharp, mocking laugh escaped her lips. "What on earth gave you the impression that I'm still interested in being your wife?"

A massive, thunderous swell chose that moment to collide with the hull, sending the lifeboat into a terrifying, gut-wrenching tilt.

The cold reality of their mortality hung heavy over the deck, and even Hannah felt a primal chill of terror settle deep in her bones.

She was under no illusions... To leave the safety of the boat in these conditions was to sign her own death warrant.

Lainey's tears began to flow anew. "Kenneth, I can't let you throw your marriage away for me. I only want the rest of you to survive. Goodbye, everyone-I love you."

The boat pitched again, causing her to stumble toward the edge as Kenneth's fingers slipped from her arm.

In the split second she drew level with Hannah, Lainey's saintly mask shattered to reveal a look of pure malice. Using the momentum of the rocking boat, she threw her full weight into a violent shove at Hannah.

Despite the shock of the betrayal, Hannah's sharp instincts kicked in; she reached out and snagged Lainey's wrist just as she began to fall.

The water erupted in a massive spray as both women were dragged down into the churning, icy depths.

Lainey's voice pierced the air, a frantic, high-pitched scream from the dark waves. "Ah! Save me!"

"Lainey!"

"Lainey, hurry! Grab my hand so we can haul you in!"

While Hannah thrashed in the bone-chilling depths, she finally gasped for air only to realize the entire crew was focused on Lainey. Not a single soul even glanced in her direction.

Disappointment clouded her vision as she realized they were well within reach of saving her, yet they chose to ignore her existence.

Fighting against the current, she reached the side of the lifeboat and latched onto the railing with a desperate grip.

Suddenly, a towering wall of water descended, slamming into Hannah and dragging her into the abyss. Before she could even scream, the sea had completely erased her.

When the men finally dragged a shivering Lainey onto the deck, the dark water where Hannah had been was now hauntingly empty.

Silence reclaimed the waves, leaving the sea appearing as undisturbed as if no struggle had occurred at all.

Jake swallowed hard, his eyes wide with growing terror. "Hannah... Wait, where did she go?"

Lainey was secretly pleased, but she forced herself to look devastated instead. "What if something happens to Hannah? If she dies, I don't think I'll be able to live with it."

Kenneth immediately pulled Lainey into his arms. Irritation filled his face as he held her close. "Why are you still worried about her after everything she did to you? A woman like Hannah deserves whatever comes her way. Right now, we need to get back to shore."

Lainey didn't answer him. She only cried against his chest.

The little sympathy Jake almost felt for Hannah disappeared after hearing Kenneth speak.

Indeed, so what if Hannah was his biological sister? The person he truly cared about all these years was still Lainey.

If he ever had to choose between the two sisters, he already knew who mattered more to him.

Meanwhile, another luxury yacht floated in the distance.

Hannah drifted in and out of consciousness. Even so, she still sensed someone walking toward her.

As soon as that person reached a hand toward her, Hannah opened her eyes. Coldness flashed across her face. Without hesitation, she seized the man's wrist and twisted it back with brutal force.

The sharp sound echoed across the yacht.

A scream ripped through the silence.

Confusion crossed Hannah's eyes for a moment. Her memories slowly returned piece by piece. The last thing she remembered was falling into the ocean.

"Looks like your reflexes are still sharp, Miss Oliver."

A deep voice sounded from behind her.

Hannah turned immediately and saw a tall man standing several steps away. The moment she looked at him, she recognized him at once. Aaron Dale.

In Frerton, his name alone was enough to make people nervous. Despite his age, Aaron already controlled most of the city's economic power. Nobody dared to offend him.

Aaron stood quietly with a cold look on his face. He kept staring at Hannah, making the atmosphere tense.

The hostility in Hannah's eyes gradually faded away. "Mr. Dale," she asked carefully, "was it you who saved me?"

By then, Hannah had already looked around enough to understand where she was. This was obviously a private yacht.

Hannah never thought she'd survive.

Aaron walked toward her casually. Standing above her, he studied her quietly.

Her face looked pale and delicate, while her bright eyes still carried a trace of daze, making her appear weak and harmless.

But Aaron didn't lower his guard.

A woman who could snapped his subordinate's wrist the moment she woke up couldn't possibly be as fragile as she seemed.

Without any warning, his expression shifted. Aaron suddenly reached for Hannah's throat.

Hannah reacted immediately. Her right fist blocked his attack while her left hand struck straight toward his eyes without hesitation.

Aaron tilted sideways to avoid her attack. At the same time, he grabbed hold of her wrist with his right hand. Hannah instantly twisted his arm downward and drove her right leg toward him.

Coldness flashed across Aaron's eyes. He blocked her kick with his knee before using his height and strength to overpower her completely.

In the blink of an eye, Hannah was pinned against the bed. Her wrist and leg were trapped firmly under his control.

Danger flashed through Hannah's eyes for a split second, and frustration followed right after. Still, neither emotion lasted long. What truly stirred inside her was excitement.

At last, she had run into someone of an equal caliber.

Aaron's speed, strength, and reflexes were enough to place him above others. A man like him wouldn't only dominate the business world. If he entered an assassin organization, he'd undoubtedly stand at the top.

Their eyes met. The distance between Hannah and Aaron disappeared completely, close enough for them to feel each other's breath.

Hannah released her grip first. Her tone softened as she looked at him. "Mr. Dale, you're hurting me."

Aaron studied her quietly.

Only after releasing his grip did he stand upright again. "Miss Oliver," he said slowly, "you're full of surprises."

Aaron already understood one thing clearly. If another person had been standing in his place earlier, Hannah would've already strangled them.

He had heard rumors about the Oliver family before, but none of them explained where Hannah learned such exceptional fighting skills.

If Hannah worked under him, she would undoubtedly outshine every assassin currently at his disposal.

Bitterness immediately filled Hannah's eyes as she slipped into character. "I grew up in the slums," she said softly. "Places like that are chaotic and dangerous. If I hadn't learned how to protect myself, I wouldn't have survived until now."

In only a moment, Hannah changed from a sharp blade into a delicate flower that needed protection.

"Thank you for saving my life today, Mr. Dale," Hannah added quietly.

A knowing smile appeared on Aaron's lips. "Then tell me, Miss Oliver," he said, "how are you planning to thank me?"

Hannah lifted her gaze toward him. "And how would Mr. Dale like me to thank him?"

Aaron answered slowly, "I haven't decided yet. But if I need your help one day, you must agree."

Hannah nodded lightly. "Alright."

Just then, one of Aaron's men approached them. "Mr. Dale," the subordinate said respectfully, "you have a call."

As the subordinate handed the phone to Aaron, Hannah narrowed her eyes sharply.

The movement exposed a tattoo on the man's arm. The figure looked clawing and menacing, resembling Satan.

Hannah's fists clenched instantly.

During the chaotic fight a year ago that left her badly injured, Hannah clearly remembered seeing the exact same tattoo on the traitor in the exact same place.

That tattooed man launched a sudden attack, causing heavy losses for her team. Nearly half of her elite squad was wiped out during that fight.

A thought immediately crossed Hannah's mind. Could Aaron somehow be connected to that traitor?

Hannah swore a silent, lethal oath to uncover the truth. If the blood of her fallen comrades led back to Aaron, she wouldn't hesitate to balance the scales by taking his life as a final tribute to their memory.

Oblivious to the predatory shift in her aura, Aaron stepped out onto the salt-sprayed deck, his attention fixed on the phone in his hand.

"Report," he commanded, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

"Mr. Dale, the trail for the renowned doctor known as Zephyr remains cold. Those who have crossed paths with the doctor are all tight-lipped, offering nothing but that the doctor is most likely female," the caller reported.

Aaron's expression darkened into a mask of cold calculation. "Widen the net. Zephyr communicates through an assistant named Mia Clayton-pivot your focus to her immediately."

"Understood, Mr. Dale."

Time was a luxury his grandfather no longer possessed; with a failing heart, his only hope rested with Zephyr, a phantom of the medical world whose genius was the only match for such a high-stakes procedure.

The surgeon had built a legendary reputation on their uncanny ability to snatch lives back from the very threshold of the afterlife.

Scanning the horizon with an icy gaze, Aaron grew frustrated; Zephyr had been a ghost for over a year, vanishing without a trace.

Immersed in his tactical planning, he remained entirely unaware of Hannah's presence shadowed in the curve of the stairwell.

A sharp, opportunistic spark ignited in Hannah's mind. His desperate search for Mia and Zephyr wasn't just a coincidence-it was the perfect leverage.

Three hours remained before the yacht would touch the pier, leaving them suspended in the isolation of the sea.

As they neared the land, Hannah went to the deck and leaned against the railing, exhaling a long, measured breath to steady her pulse.

While the ocean breeze toyed with her hair, a storm of conflicting emotions played across her features, she looked up as Aaron approached. "Do you require transport once we dock?"

Following a brief, calculated hesitation, Hannah offered a small nod. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Dale."

Right on cue, the insistent vibration of her phone shattered the quiet of the deck.

Hannah retrieved the device with deliberate slowness, tilting the screen just enough for the name "Mia Clayton" to flare vividly in Aaron's line of sight.

Aaron's pupils constricted instantly. Mia Clayton-the very key he was searching for. How did a woman like Hannah have a direct line to Zephyr's inner circle?

Seizing her advantage, Hannah stepped away to answer the call, leaving him hooked on the bait.

Mia's voice crackled with worry over the line. "Hannah, how's the recovery going? What was with the urgent text telling me to call you right now?"

"I'm doing a lot better. I messaged you because I need a small favor-consider it an acting gig," Hannah answered, her tone perfectly level.

Mia sounded intrigued instantly. "Alright, I'm listening. What's the script?"

Hannah adjusted her grip on the phone, subtly tilting the device until she could see Aaron's reflection hovering within her peripheral vision.

"Actually, the performance just ended," she said, a faint smile touching her lips.

The entire call had been a calculated maneuver; by having Mia reach out in Aaron's presence, she had effectively signaled their alliance without saying a word.

"If a guy named Aaron Dale reaches out to you seeking Zephyr's service, just say yes to the job," she added. "I'll fill you in on the details when I see you."

"You got it," Mia replied.

By the time Hannah ended the call, Aaron had already disembarked from the yacht.

He stood braced against a black Rolls-Royce, a cigarette caught between his lips while his right hand idly manipulated a matte silver lighter.

A practiced flick of his thumb brought a flame to life, the light catching the intensity in his eyes as the ocean wind sent the fire flickering erratically.

Hannah made her way down to join him.

Aaron tucked the lighter away and released a slow cloud of smoke. "Move out."

During the return trip to the Oliver residence, the driver handled the navigation while Hannah and Aaron occupied the rear passenger cabin.

Despite the generous proportions of the seating, Hannah retreated as far as possible toward her door, maintaining a gap wide enough to accommodate two additional passengers.

"Miss Oliver, are you and Mia Clayton close?" Aaron's voice suddenly sliced through the silence, snapping her back to reality.

She offered a slight nod. "We know each other. Why do you ask, Mr. Dale?"

"Don't read too much into it," Aaron said, his voice dropping to a chilly professional tone. "My grandfather needs surgery, and I need the 'miracle doctor' Zephyr to perform it. I've made Mia several massive offers, but she's not biting. I'm thinking you might be able to grease the wheels for me."

He took a moment before adding, "If you pull this off, we'll consider us even."

The ghost of a smile appeared on Hannah's face; everything was unfolding exactly as she'd hoped.

"I'll give it my best shot," she answered, "but I'm not making any promises."

Aaron gave a nod. "I'll be waiting for some good news then, Miss Oliver."

Hannah just gave him a casual nod back.

Aaron's eyes lingered on her, zeroing in on the calluses on her hands. They weren't just rough patches-they looked exactly like the marks left by years of handling a firearm.

"Your hands aren't exactly what I'd expect from a socialite, Miss Oliver," he remarked, trying to sound like he was just making small talk. "How'd you end up with so many calluses?"

Hannah looked him dead in the eye with a sigh. "I had to do a lot of grunt work just to stay afloat back in the day. Though I've gotta say, I didn't expect a guy in your position to have rough hands either, Mr. Dale."

She was genuinely taken aback that a billionaire tycoon like him had hands that looked like they'd seen real action.

"Just from signing way too many contracts," Aaron replied, dismissing the topic just as quickly as she had.

Hannah went quiet, and a layer of awkward tension settled over the interior of the car.

It wasn't long before the car rolled to a stop at the Oliver residence.

Hannah popped the door open. "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Dale."

Aaron watched her with a sharp, calculating look. He then pulled out a card and pressed it into her hand. "If you ever find yourself in a bind, Miss Oliver, give me a call."

"Got it," Hannah said, taking the card.

She turned on her heel and headed toward the house.

Aaron immediately pulled out his phone and made a call, his voice dropping into a cold command. "Dig up everything you can on Hannah Oliver's life before she showed up with the Oliver family."