The sudden, deafening crack of a high-caliber sniper rifle shattered the quiet of the isolated industrial road.

Before Jannah could even process the sound, a high-velocity bullet tore straight through the passenger-side window, sending a violent shower of safety glass raining over the leather interior. The projectile buried itself deeply and directly into her right ribs. Jannah’s body jolted violently on Dorrent’s lap, a sharp, agonizing gasp ripping from her throat as her lungs immediately flooded with a suffocating wave of heat.

"Aaah!"

Blood began dripping everywhere, instantly staining her dress and pooling over Dorrent’s casual designer shirt. Her small fingers clawed frantically at his shoulders as she panted heavily for air, her chest heaving in short, desperate shallow breaths that barely brought any oxygen to her fading senses.

Dorrent didn’t hesitate for a single fraction of a second. His S-tier combat instincts overrode his fury as his arms tightened around her, holding her firmly and securely against his chest to stabilize her writhing form. With his right hand, he forcefully slammed his palm against the ignition button, igniting the luxury car’s high-performance engine once again with a roaring, aggressive growl.

Through the jagged, gaping hole where the car’s broken window had been obliterated by the gunshot, Dorrent threw a sharp, predatory look outside into the dense, overgrown bushes lining the desolate lower-district perimeter. His eyes scanned the perimeter with lethal precision, but he saw no particular suspicious person or lingering thermal signature in the immediate brush. The shooter was a professional, already melting back into the shadows of the ghetto.

Realizing he was completely blind to the assassin’s position, Dorrent slammed his boot down on the accelerator. The heavy luxury transport launched forward, its tires screaming against the cracked cobblestones as he flew out of the kill zone. His mind was entirely locked onto a singular, frantic objective: getting her to a medical facility for immediate treatment first. He absolutely did not have the luxury of time to hunt down or capture whoever had shot her; every tick of the dashboard clock was bleeding out the only female frequency his system responded to.

"Stay awake, Jannah! Open your eyes!" Dorrent commanded, his gravelly voice dropping into a panicked, authoritative roar that vibrated against her wet cheek. "Do not close your eyes! Look at me!"

Jannah tried with every single ounce of her fading might to stay awake. She forced her eyelids to tremble upward, trying to hold onto the blurred, terrifying silhouette of the Alpha holding her, but the sheer volume of blood loss was too rapid. The coldness of death began creeping up her fingertips, her vision completely going black. She couldn’t fight the overwhelming weight dragging her under; she eventually gave up her stubborn resistance, her head rolling backward as her limp, lifeless body slumped onto Dorrent’s broad shoulders, completely unconscious.

"Damn it, Jannah!" Dorrent growled, his knuckles turning white as he steered the high-speed vehicle with one hand through the dense lower-district traffic.

With his free hand, he reached into the back seat, violently ripping away his traveling trench coat and gathering the thick wool clothes around her gaping rib wound. He pressed his palm down onto the fabric with immense, bruising pressure, trying fruitlessly to stop the relentless river of blood from flowing out over his lap.

He sped up, weaving the armored transport through the commercial lanes at a lethal velocity, the speedometer pushing past boundaries that would trigger corporate security alerts. His mind was racing in a chaotic, volatile loop, wondering what the hell had just happened. Who exactly had Jannah mightier ruined or crossed in her pathetic lower-district life that she had to be targeted for a public execution? Did this have to do with the Boren family, or was there an even darker secret hiding behind her face?

A wave of pure, toxic possessiveness flared deep within his chest. He wouldn’t let his exclusive sex slave die. He still needed her far too much; he still needed her sexy body to cure his dead system, and he refused to let some nameless assassin steal his property before he was finished with her.

Navigating the industrial borders, he crossed the high-district threshold, heading directly toward the nearest advanced medical facility capable of handling an emergency chest trauma. Within minutes, the massive, gleaming white towers of the Upper District Hospital loomed ahead.

Dorrent didn’t care about corporate protocols or parking regulations. He slammed his brakes, bringing the smoking vehicle to a sudden, jarring stop directly in front of the main emergency VIP ambulance bay.

He threw the gull-wing door open, but the moment his boots hit the concrete pavement, his entire body went completely rigid with a fresh wave of blind, unhinged fury.

Standing right outside the hospital entrance, casually leaning against a stone pillar while talking through his digital phone, was Doctor Damian Boren.

Damian shifted his gaze at the sound of the screeching tires, his phone slowly slipping from his fingers as his eyes locked onto the blood-soaked interior of the tech mogul’s car. Damian absolutely did not expect to see the billionaire CEO at his workplace, and his handsome features instantly twisted into a dark, incredibly angry snarl the moment he recognized Dorrent Grefo.

"What have you done to her?!" Damian roared, his pheromones exploding into the open air as he took three massive, predatory strides toward the idling car.

Within seconds, a team of emergency trauma nurses and robotic medical orderly units rushed out of the sliding glass doors, pushing a high-density mobile hovering bed toward the vehicle to carry Jannah’s bleeding, unconscious frame out of the cabin.

Dorrent stepped between the medical bed and the approaching doctor, his silver eyes flashing a dangerous, blinding crimson as he bared his teeth at the doctor. As the medical team began to carefully lift Jannah’s limp body from the leather seats, Dorrent’s fist clenched, his deep voice vibrating with a terrifying, absolute vow of war.

"I swear on my bloodline, Boren... I won’t let you touch a single inch of her flesh!"