Guron clapped a hand to his chest, a dry, hollow laugh escaping him. "Wise choice, Jannah! Truly wise. Your grandfather will be in the central district clinic before the sun sets today. He will receive the finest care in the city."

Guron gestured toward the open car door. "Perhaps you’d like an hour? To gather your things? To... change into something more appropriate?"

"No," Jannah said, her eyes locked onto Dorrent’s furious face. She felt a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the vein in his temple pulse. "I’m ready now. I don’t need anything from this place but my satchel."

Dorrent’s jaw tightened so hard his teeth audibly grinded. "Father, you cannot be serious. You expect me to share a cabin with this?" He gestured to Jannah as if she were a pile of refuse. "How is she meant to travel? Which transport is she using?"

Guron smiled, a thin, sharp-edged expression. "She is your personal physician, Dorrent. She will sit right next to you in the back of the car. It’s time you two became... acquainted."

"No way," Dorrent snarled, his pheromones exploding in a wave of bitter, jagged frost that made the air hurt to breathe. "She probably stinks of cheap herbs. I will not have my upholstery ruined by her filth."

Guron ignored his son’s outburst with the practiced ease of a man who always got his way. He stepped past Dorrent and held the door open for Jannah, bowing slightly in a gesture that was more mocking than respectful. "After you, Doctor Nenth."

Jannah didn’t hesitate. She climbed into the car, her rough dress snagging on the butter-soft leather, her muddy boots leaving a dark smear on the pristine floor mat. She sat down and stared straight ahead, her heart thundering against her ribs.

Dorrent stood outside the car, his face contorted in a mask of such intense loathing it was almost monstrous. He looked at his father, then at the girl sitting in his seat, and let out a harsh, guttural sound of pure rejection.

"I am not sitting next to her," Dorrent spat, his voice trembling with the force of his ego. "Drive her yourself, Father. I’ll take a cab."

He slammed the car door shut from the outside, the impact shaking the entire frame of the vehicle, and turned his back on them, stalking away into the smog of the ghetto without a single backward glance.

Jannah sat in the silence of the luxury car, a dark, cold smile finally touching her lips.

"Stop the drama, Dorrent."

Guron’s voice didn’t rise in volume, but it carried a lethal, icy precision that cut through the humid smog of 3rd Street like a guillotine. He stood by the open door of the luxury transport, his eyes fixed on his son’s retreating back with a look of profound disappointment.

"Get in the car," Guron continued, his tone dropping into a dangerous low. "Or the investment deal with Hodin Oil—the project you’ve spent the last eighteen months bleeding for—is over. I will pull the Grefo signature before the market opens tomorrow morning."

Dorrent froze. His broad shoulders remained tensed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the lapels of his navy suit jacket. The silence that followed was suffocating. For a moment, the only sound in the alley was the distant, rhythmic dripping of a rusted pipe.

She watched through the tinted glass as the S-tier alpha struggled with his own pride. The Hodin Oil merger was the cornerstone of Gammar Technology’s expansion; to lose it would be a catastrophic blow to Dorrent’s legacy. Slowly, agonizingly, Dorrent turned around. His face was a mask of cold, suppressed fury, his jaw set so tight it looked as if it might shatter.

Without a word, he stalked back to the vehicle. He reached for the front passenger door, but Guron moved with surprising speed, blocking the handle.

"In the back," Guron commanded, gesturing to the seat next to Jannah.

"I am in the car, Father," Dorrent hissed, his eyes flashing a dangerous, volatile crimson. "Does it truly matter which piece of leather I sit on?"

"It matters," Guron replied smoothly, his golden eyes unblinking. "She is your physician. You need to start knowing her. You need to grow accustomed to her scent, her presence, and her touch. Now, get in."

Dorrent let out a guttural growl, a sound of pure, animalistic frustration that made the hair on Jannah’s neck stand up. He wrenched the back door open and slid into the cabin. The vehicle rocked under his weight. He reclaimed the space, pressing himself as far into the opposite corner as the luxury interior allowed. He was a mountain of jagged frost, his presence so overwhelming that Jannah felt as though the oxygen in the car was being sucked out of her lungs.

He stared out the window, refusing to even acknowledge her existence, his body vibrating with a silent, murderous tension.

Guron climbed into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life with a low, expensive hum. As they pulled away from the crumbling ruins of the ghetto, heading toward the sleek, neon-lit arteries of the upper district, the silence inside the car became a physical weight. Jannah clutched her satchel to her chest, her eyes fixed on her dirty boots, feeling like an intruder in a temple of glass and steel.

They were merging onto the high-speed transit bridge when it happened.

Guron, distracted by a notification on the dashboard, failed to see a heavy freighter lane-drifting at high speed. The freighter’s horn blared—a deep, tectonic roar—as it swung its massive metallic tail toward the Grefo transport.

"Look out!" Guron shouted, violently jerking the steering wheel to the right.

The tires shrieked against the asphalt. The sudden, violent tilt of the car sent Jannah flying. Because she was small and had been sitting tentatively on the edge of the seat, the centrifugal force launched her across the cabin. She cried out, her hands flying out to catch herself, but there was nothing but the solid, hot wall of Dorrent’s chest.

She slammed into him with a dull thud.

In the chaos of the impact, Dorrent’s hands shot out instinctively to steady whatever had hit him. His large, powerful palms clamped down, seeking purchase to keep them both from being thrown against the door.

Jannah’s breath left her in a sharp, strangled sob.

Dorrent’s hands had landed squarely over her chest, his fingers reflexively curling, cupping her breasts with a firm, unintentional grip. For a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, the car stabilized, but neither of them moved. The heat of his palms burned through her thin, ragged dress, and the electric shock of his touch sent a jolt of raw, terrifying sensation straight to her core.

Jannah bolted back as if she’d been struck by lightning, scrambling into her corner and pulling her satchel over her chest like a shield. Her face was a mask of pure, humiliated shock, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Dorrent booked offended. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe his palms with slow, exaggerated strokes, as if he were cleaning off toxic waste.

"It seems you’ve changed your mind quite quickly, haven’t you, little omega?" Dorrent sneered, his voice dripping with a cruel, dark amusement. "One look at my face in the light and you’re already throwing yourself at me? Using a common traffic mishap as an excuse to get my hands on you?"

Jannah’s mouth hung open, her cheeks burning with a rage so intense it made her vision blur. "I didn’t—you—it was an accident!" 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Dorrent raked his eyes over her again, his gaze landing on her chest with a cold, dismissive flick. "Save your breath. You’re totally not my type. Your breasts can’t even fit in my palms. It’s like touching a flat board covered in cheap fabric."

"Dorrent!" Guron snapped from the front seat, his eyes meeting his son’s in the rearview mirror. "Enough. She is not here as your sex partner or your plaything. She is here to save your life and your legacy. Treat her with the respect her position demands."

Dorrent leaned back into the shadows, a dark, predatory smirk playing on his handsome, loathsome face. He tucked the handkerchief away, his eyes locking onto Jannah’s trembling form with a look of chilling certainty.

"Who knows, Father?" Dorrent whispered, his voice a low, dirty vibration that made Jannah’s skin crawl. "Maybe that’s exactly what she wanted when she accepted the job. Maybe the little herbalist is just looking for a more... intimate way to earn her millions."