CH.2

Dane lingered by the window, his gaze lost in the cityscape below like a silent predator surveying his territory.

His eyes held an icy detachment when he finally turned away from the view, making his way toward the exit of his corporate fortress.

His guards stood alert before the door, their bodies tensed at his approach. Even after years of service and familiarity, they could never shake off the aura of intimidation that clung to Dane like a second skin.

"Report!" he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as winter frost.

He didn't need to ask; it was merely a formality.

"We have him, sir," came the steady reply from Chris, his right-hand man.

Dane acknowledged with a curt nod before sweeping past them without another word.

His face was an unreadable mask as he stepped into the elevator with an air of impending doom hanging heavily around him.

The doors closed behind him and he descended into the bowels of his empire accompanied by a select few of his loyal soldiers.

Outside, Chris hurriedly swung open the rear door of their vehicle for Dane to enter while taking up residence in the front passenger seat beside their driver.

For several minutes during their drive through the city's underbelly, there was nothing but silence—a silence so profound that it felt like a living entity within itself.

"What's with the task I assigned you?" Dane suddenly broke through this silence.

"We followed her as per your instructions," Chris replied promptly.

Dane sank deeper into the plush leather seat as if trying to physically distance himself from reality – or perhaps just from Chris' words.

His eyes were aflame with fury; each flicker seemed to be wrestling with some unseen specter of freedom.

An eerie smirk suddenly danced at the corner of his lips. It was sinister yet strangely compelling.

His fist clenched tightly until it paled in comparison to the surrounding darkness.

His breathing became ragged and uneven as tension coiled within him like a spring ready to snap.

His hatred was tangible, radiating off him in waves that were impossible to ignore. He was on the brink of achieving his goal; he just needed a bit more time.

Their destination was an abandoned warehouse, one of many scattered across the globe that served as a front for Dane's illicit operations.

From the outside, the warehouse looked run-down and forgotten, which was a perfect disguise. But inside, it was furnished with state-of-the-art technology and top-tier brands from around the world.

Security was tight. Men lurked in every shadowy corner, their eyes constantly scanning for threats. Even birds dared not fly overhead for fear of being shot down by sharpshooters perched on rooftops. It was as if nature herself had been forbidden from coming too close to these unholy grounds.

As soon as the sleek black sedan came to a halt, Chris sprang into action.

His heart pounded in his chest like a wild drum as he fumbled with the door handle, his nerves dancing in anticipation of Dane's intimidating presence.

The moment Dane stepped out of the car, it was as if a dormant volcano had erupted. His aura transformed from a flickering flame into an all-consuming inferno.

They moved towards the warehouse, their footsteps echoing ominously against the cold concrete with ten loyal henchmen trailing behind them. 

Upon reaching their destination, Dane eased himself onto a plush black leather chair. His polished shoes rested on the table before him as if claiming ownership.

From his peripheral vision, he noticed a pitiful figure kneeling in abject terror and humiliation.

A smirk tugged at Dane's lips as he savored this display of power and fear.

"Please sir," John's voice wavered with desperation. "Don't kill me... I have—"

"Silence!" Dane's interruption sliced through the air like a blade.

He reclined further into his chair and rested his head comfortably against its cushioned backrest while closing his eyes leisurely.

"You have families who need your financial support? Isn't that right, John?" His voice was smooth but carried an undercurrent of lethal threat.

John nodded frantically as though hoping Dane could sense it despite having his eyes shut.

Dane hummed nonchalantly before straightening up and removing his feet from the table.

His sudden eye-opening sent chills down John's spine. They were piercing and held terrifying sparks that made John feel as though he was staring death in its face.

Dane rose smoothly from his chair and closed in on John with predatory grace. "When you betrayed my trust and abandoned our your tasks," he began icily, "You signed your own death warrant. I am merely the executor."

"Pl-"

John's pleas were cut short as bullets found their home in his heart.

He collapsed on the cold floor, life seeping out of him until his gaze became hollow. 

Dane slid his weapon back into its holster with practiced ease and turned to leave. His composure remained unshaken despite the numerous blood on his hands. This was a chilling display of his ruthlessness.

His men knew better than to follow this time. 

His departure was swift and silent. He disappeared into the night in one of his ludicrously expensive sports cars.

Upon arriving at his barely lit apartment - just how he preferred it - he shed off his black shirt and tossed it carelessly on the sofa.

Then he poured himself a glass of fine whiskey and ambled towards the balcony, relishing in its smoky burn.

As he sipped from his glass, he took in the sprawling cityscape laid bare under the moonlight.

The cool breeze toyed with his hair and caressed his bare chest, adding an ethereal touch to his devilishly handsome features.

The shrill ring of the doorbell echoed through the apartment barely a minute later. 

A wicked grin spread across his face as he glanced at his watch – midnight had struck precisely on cue.

He strode back inside, pouring another glass of whiskey before making his way toward the door to greet whoever dared to visit at this hour.

"Good evening, sir!" Joey greeted with a bright smile, watching his retreating to the sanctuary of his balcony, the spot where he had previously been stationed after letting his guest in while clutching a glass of whiskey as though it were a lifeline.

Joey was treated with such indifference that he didn't even deign to cast her a fleeting glance.

The echo of her stilettos against the cold marble floor filled the air as she positioned herself behind the heartless demon who promised an experience unlike any she would ever know.

"Go make yourself presentable!" Dane's voice was a commanding growl, barely concealing his impatience.

Joey swallowed hard before flashing him an uncertain smile. "Yes, sir!" She spun on her heel and hurried back inside with feigned confidence.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, daunting in its unfamiliarity. It was her first time in this place and she felt like an intruder in this world of luxury.

She longed to ask which bathroom to use but fear held her tongue captive. She didn't want to irritate him further. So she chose a door at random only to find it locked from within.

After several failed attempts and growing anxiety gnawing at her insides, Joey finally found an unlocked door.

As she nudged it open, her breath hitched at the sight that greeted her. The walls were pristine white canvas for black illustrations and bold lines that seemed to tell untold stories.

The room's furnishings were predominantly dark red - so deep it spoke volumes about the clandestine activities that occurred within these walls.

While Joey marveled at the decadence surrounding her, Dane drained his glass of whiskey with one fluid gulp and sauntered into his plush living room.

He glanced at his wristwatch—it was half past midnight already—before making his way back towards the bar for another drink.

His fingers curled around his glass before making his way toward the bedroom.