"Her? You think she's yours to touch?"
The voice was low and chilling, like it had risen from the depths of the underworld. It carried a pressure so intense it seemed to still the air itself. All eyes instinctively turned toward the door.
There, standing tall and imposing, was a man cloaked in a deadly aura. A silver mask concealed his face, but nothing could hide the overwhelming presence he exuded. Behind him stood a dozen figures—silent, lethal, each armed with weapons fitted with suppressors. It wasn't just an entrance. It was a declaration of dominance.
The atmosphere in the room tensed like a coiled spring.
Regina felt as though her heart might burst from her chest. Never before had she witnessed a scene so saturated with danger. The air hung thick with something primal—a predator's scent—something that made her instincts scream that these were not ordinary men. These were hunters.
