Dorrent did not answer.

The silence that stretched between them in the moonlit bedroom was so heavy. Dorrent’s fingers remained wrapped around her throat, but the lethal, bone-snapping pressure had stalled. He just looked at her. His eyes traced the unyielding lines of her face, trying to find the crack in her armor, trying to understand how a nineteen-year-old girl from the dirt could look into the eyes of an S-tier predator and refuse to blink.

Jannah’s pulse throbbed wildly against his palm, a frantic, caged bird, but her voice remained as steady as glass.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered, her throat moving against his grip. "I’ve never done anything wrong to you. I came here because your father dragged me here. I came to heal a condition I didn’t even ask to know about. So tell me, Alpha Grefo... what did I ever do to deserve your venom?"

Dorrent’s jaw tightened, a hard, rigid line cutting across his handsome face. He couldn’t tell her anything worth it. He only knew that she’s dirty and he hates untidiness. He couldn’t tell her that her very existence was an insult to his perfection, that looking at her reminded him of the blood, the slums, and the fragile, broken pieces of his own masculine ego. He couldn’t tell her that he hated her because she was the only outsider person in the entire Freenly City who held his crown over a burning fire. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Slowly, deliberately, Dorrent released his grip. He stood up, towering over the bed, his white silk shirt casting a pale reflection in the darkness. He straightened his cuffs, the cold, untouchable CEO armor sliding back into place as if the murderous beast from a moment ago had never existed.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Jannah," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, icy register that dripped with condescension. "You haven’t done enough to earn my hatred. You’re just a nuisance. A stray cat that wandered into the wrong estate. Just make sure you don’t cross paths with me again. To be completely frank, you’re not even worth the effort it would take to kill you."

He turned on his heel, his long legs taking a step toward the heavy walnut doors, ready to put an end to the madness of this room.

"And what about the shaving?" Jannah’s voice sliced through the shadows, halting him in his tracks.

Dorrent didn’t turn around, but his shoulders went rigid.

"Or should I just text Joanne right now?" she continued, the rustle of the silk sheets indicating she was sitting up. "I’m sure she’s still awake. She seemed very eager to talk to me this morning when you weren’t looking."

Dorrent whirled around, his eyes widening in genuine, dark surprise. "What did you say?"

Jannah reached under her pillow and pulled out a small, cracked digital datapad—the cheap, ghetto-issued device she carried everywhere. She tapped the screen, and the pale blue light illuminated her face, casting a wicked, victorious glow over her features. She held it up, displaying a newly saved contact file.

Joanne - BeautyPass.

"We exchanged digits while you were stepping out to the car," Jannah said, her tone mockingly innocent. "She was very interested in my ’raw, unrefined’ look. She told me if I ever wanted to see what the upper districts were really like, I should call her. I wonder what she’ll say when I send her a message telling her that her favorite Alpha is currently standing in my bedroom, begging me not to expose his dead blood."

Dorrent’s breath hitched. A cold, dangerous fury flooded his veins. She had outmaneuvered him again. The pristine, untouchable wall he had built between his public life and his private shame was crumbling, and this girl was holding the sledgehammer.

He stared at her, his mind racing, searching for a way to break her completely. He looked at her sitting there—the tiny shorts exposing her long, slender, pale legs, her hands clutching the datapad like a shield. She was playing the part of a ruthless extortionist, but as Dorrent’s clinical, calculating gaze swept over her, he noticed the subtle tremor in her fingers. He remembered the bathroom. He remembered the sheer, unadulterated panic that had flashed in her eyes when her skirt had been ripped down to her ankles. She had scrambled, she had cried out, her face burning with a raw, primal shame that couldn’t be faked.

She’s a virgin, Dorrent realized, a dark, sudden epiphany striking his mind like lightning. According to her reactions, she’s never been touched by a man. She’s never been seen naked. She’s using this disgusting, bold threat as a bluff because she thinks I’ll back away in disgust.

A slow, cruel smile began to form at the corner of Dorrent’s lips, the winter storm in his eyes shifting into something far more predatory, far more calculated. He had seen a thousand women naked. He knew the geography of desire better than any man alive. If she wanted to play a game of chicken with her body, he would give her exactly what she asked for—and use it to destroy her from the inside out.

He wouldn’t back down. He would accept the challenge. He would take the blade, he would look at her "foul, primitive" junction, and he would use his flawless, expert touch to make her break. He would make her skin burn, make her body turn traitor against her mind, and leave her completely wet, trembling, and craving for his touch—chasing a climax and an Alpha she would never, ever be allowed to have. He would make her regret the day she ever tried to use her womanhood as a weapon against him.

Dorrent took a slow, deliberate step back toward the bed. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his silk shirt, his presence expanding until the entire room felt suffocatingly small. He looked down at her, his voice dropping into a deep, velvety purr that sent a shiver of pure terror straight down Jannah’s spine.

"Fine," Dorrent whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with a promise of total ruin. "I’ll do it."