The sky was pitch-black, thick as spilled ink, with thunder cracking like gunfire overhead. Lightning slashed across the heavens in jagged streaks, and the storm rolled in heavy and fast-rain hammering down in sheets, wind howling like it had a score to settle. It was the kind of night that made your skin crawl.
Deep in the woods, search dogs barked wildly, their howls echoing through the trees. Flashlights cut through the darkness like spotlights on a manhunt. Amid the chaos, a voice shouted, sharp and urgent- "Found her! We've got Mrs. Evans!"
All the lights swung in the same direction. There, curled up under some bushes, was a woman-disheveled and dirt-streaked, yet impossibly beautiful. One of her shoes was missing, the other barely hanging on. Her bag was torn open, its contents-papers, ID, random things-scattered everywhere.
The sudden brightness made her wince. She lifted a scratched-up hand to shield her face, fingers shaking.
Not far off, the sharp sound of leather shoes against gravel cut through the noise. The dogs instantly fell silent, dropping to their haunches as if someone had flipped a switch.
A tall man pushed aside the branches and stepped into view. He wore a tailored black suit, the fit flawless on his lean frame. His face was cold and sharp, with a quiet sort of dominance. His eyes were deep and dark, like something that could drown you.
Cassian Bennett stopped right in front of her. His shadow swallowed her whole.
He bent down, picked up a plane ticket with two fingers, and said in a calm but ice-cold voice, "Tell me his name, and I might let you live."
Sabrina Evans sat frozen on the ground, her face tight with fear and despair. But she clenched her jaw and said nothing.
Cassian frowned, eyes narrowing slightly, then tore the ticket right down the middle. His voice stayed flat: "Take her back. Deal with her-our way."
The butler inhaled sharply before bowing slightly. "Yes, sir."
*****
At the Bennetts' mansion on the hillside, every room blazed with light. They were supposed to be hosting a lively gathering tonight. But right now, all those finely dressed family members stood around quietly, faces grim and stiff.
In the side hall, every lash echoed like a warning-brutal, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore.
"Hit her! Don't hold back!" Matilda Bennett shouted, her elegant outfit doing nothing to soften her furious expression. Her palm slammed onto the table. "Shameless little tramp! Might as well be dead!"
It was supposed to be a joyful evening-her seventieth birthday. The whole Bennett household had been busy preparing the party, everyone gathered to celebrate. No one had expected that, in the middle of the chaos, Sabrina would try to run off with another man. If she hadn't been caught in time, who knew where she'd be by now?
The Bennetts were wealthy and influential, and their eldest grandson, Cassian, was the dream man for a sea of women-handsome, brilliant, untouchable. That Sabrina, lucky enough to be called his wife, had the nerve to cheat? The thought alone made Matilda's blood boil. She wanted nothing more than to slap her herself. What made it worse was that even after being caught, Sabrina refused to spill the guy's identity. Tight-lipped like a rock.
At Matilda's command, the punishment in the side hall grew more brutal. It was clear Sabrina wouldn't walk away from this. Everyone in the house knew it and kept their heads down, quietly agreeing on one thing-this mess wasn't theirs to fix.
Soon, all eyes drifted to Cassian, who had stayed silent from the moment he dragged Sabrina back. For most men, a cheating wife would be unbearable. But Cassian? He sat there stoically, as though he were just a bystander.
No anger. No embarrassment. No heartbreak. Even as Sabrina took hit after hit, skin torn and bleeding, he didn't so much as blink. No satisfaction, no pity.
Like a statue, he sat upright. Those deep eyes of his were calm, emotionless. As if none of this had anything to do with him.
The tension lingered like fog in the room.
"Aah!"
A piercing, desperate scream rang out from the side hall-so raw it sounded like it tore from the very depths of her soul.
Then-nothing. Not a single sound followed.
The silence that came after was even more chilling. Everyone froze. Even Matilda flinched, stunned, her hand knocking over the cut-glass fruit dish beside her.
It hit the floor with a sharp crash, shattering into pieces. A scatter of pomegranate seeds burst across the marble -
bright red, glistening like blood.
"M-Madam..." the butler rushed in from the side hall, his voice shaky. "Mrs. Evans... she, she's dead..."
Screams followed. The whole house erupted into chaos.
Everyone-except Cassian.
His face remained cold as ever, but his hands... clenched, knuckles white, the faintest tremor betraying the storm under the surface.