DARK OBSESSION

CHAPTER 7: THE GAME

He was impeccably groomed, wearing a tailored three-piece Italian suit, his brown hair styled to perfection. He held a silver-headed walking cane in his right hand, though he walked without a limp. His face was handsome in a classical, sculpted way, but his dark eyes were hollow—utterly devoid of warmth or humanity.

"Ah, Viktor," Gabriel spoke, his voice smooth, refined, and sickeningly polite. "I see you’ve secured the package. And she’s still intact. Excellent."

Gabriel strolled across the concrete floor, his leather shoes clicking sharply. He stopped five feet from me, looking down at my bound, disheveled state with an expression of cold, predatory satisfaction.

"Feyre," Gabriel said gently, as if greeting a friend at a gala. "You look somewhat... unrefined in this light. But no matter. Once the documents are signed tonight and the media receives our engagement photos, you will learn how to behave like a proper lady of the De la Cruz household."

I glared up at him, spitting on the concrete right at the tip of his polished shoe. "You’re a pathetic fraud, Gabriel. Leo would have put a bullet through your head if he were here."

Gabriel’s aristocratic composure fractured for a fraction of a second. His jaw tightened, and before anyone could react, he raised his hand and struck me across the face with the heavy back of his hand.

The force of the blow snapped my head to the side. The metallic taste of blood burst in my mouth as my lip split against my teeth. The sharp pain flared through my jaw, but instead of crying out, I slowly turned my head back, looking up at him through my messy dark hair with a dark, mocking laugh.

"Is that all you've got, nobleman?" I taunted softly.

Gabriel’s face contorted in anger. He raised his silver cane, preparing to strike me again. "You arrogant little b***h—"

A gun c****d.

Gabriel froze mid-swing.

Viktor stood right beside him, the cold steel barrel of a heavy desert eagle pistol pressed directly against Gabriel’s temple.

Luc had stepped up from behind, his combat knife resting lightly against the throat of Gabriel's lead bodyguard. The silent giant with the braided hair had already unholstered his submachine gun, pointing it at the remaining three guards, who hesitated with their hands hovering near their holsters.

"What is the meaning of this, Markov?" Gabriel hissed, his eyes widening in shock, though he tried to maintain his aristocratic poise. "I paid you half a million dollars!"

"You paid for a kidnapping, Tuan De la Cruz," Viktor whispered, his voice like grinding stones against his skull. "You didn't pay for the right to lay a hand on our guest in our house."

"She is my fiancée by legal right!" Gabriel spat out, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"She doesn't look like your fiancée," Luc chimed in from behind, digging the tip of his knife just deep enough into the bodyguard's throat to draw a tiny bead of crimson. "She looks like someone who just made us a much better offer."

Gabriel’s eyes darted toward me in horror. "You... what did you do to them?"

I wiped the blood from my split lip with my shoulder, my dark eyes locking onto Gabriel’s trembling figure. "I told them the truth, Gabriel. You're a weak man hiding behind dead men's debts and stolen titles. And you made the fatal mistake of bringing me into a room full of men who actually know how to take what they want."

"You crazy b***h!" Gabriel yelled. "My family controls the shipping ports! If you touch me, my father will flatten this entire district!"

"Your father won't have the chance," Viktor said calmly.

Suddenly, the tech specialist at the laptops yelled out, his voice laced with sudden panic. "Boss! We’ve got multiple incoming contacts! Heavy armor! They’ve breached the perimeter gates!"

Before anyone could move, the high glass windows near the roof exploded inward in a shower of sharp fragments.

Flashbang grenades rained down onto the concrete floor, exploding in a blinding flash of white light and deafening, disorienting sound waves.

Chaos erupted instantly. Gabriel’s bodyguards tried to draw their weapons, but intense, synchronized automatic gunfire ripped through the smoke, dropping them in seconds. Gabriel screamed, diving behind a stack of wooden crates for cover.

Through the ringing in my ears and the thick white smoke, I saw the main iron doors of the dry dock blasted completely off their hinges by a Breaching Charge.

An iron wall of violence rolled into the warehouse.

In the lead was Damian Sterling, moving with lethal, terrifying speed. He held a suppressed assault rifle, firing short, controlled three-round bursts with clinical precision. Beside him was Julian, a heavy shot-gun in hand, his dragon tattoo fully visible beneath his unbuttoned, blood-stained shirt as he racked another shell into the chamber with a savage roar.

Xavier moved like a ghost along the left flank, twin handguns barking as he systematically took out the Syndicate’s perimeter guards.

Behind them stepped a figure that sent a shockwave through the entire room.

Victor Vance walked through the smoke in a crisp black suit, carrying a heavy caliber revolver in his hand. His grey eyes were cold, hollow, and utterly terrifying. Beside him stood his son, Kaelen Vance, holding a compact submachine gun with a cold, desperate intensity in his eyes that I had never seen before on the stock market floor.

The Pact, Victor, and Kaelen.

An impossible, monstrous alliance forged in blood and obsession. They had torn down the city to find me, and now they were burning everything in their path.

"Feyre!" Julian’s voice roared through the gunfire.

Viktor Markov grabbed my collar, pulling me up from the floor to use me as a shield, but he didn't point his gun at my head. Instead, he pulled out a combat knife and sliced through the plastic zip ties binding my wrists in one swift motion.

"Run to them, little diamond," Viktor rasped in my ear, his blue eyes burning with an intense, twisted respect as the gunfire rained around us. "Or stay with us and watch them burn. The choice is yours."

My hands were free. My wrists bled, my lip was split, and my dress was ruined.

I stood in the center of the crossfire—between the four Alpha criminals of the Syndicate who had just betrayed their employer for me, the aristocratic snake Gabriel cowering in the dirt, and the seven dangerous men who had laid siege to the city just to reclaim me.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, copper, and raw, unrestrained possessiveness.

I didn't run. I didn't hide.

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my bare hand, stood tall amidst the shattering glass and falling brass casings, and let out a dark, breathless smile.

The game had finally begun.