Victor, fueled by his dark victory, didn't let Alia's tears stop him. He grabbed his phone and opened the secret group chat named "THE PENTAGON LORDS."
He forced Alia to look at the screen. What she saw made her face turn crimson with shame. It wasn't just photos anymore; Dragunov and Marcos had shared explicit videos of them with their wives, showing their dominance in the most brutal way.
Victor whispered in his deep, gravelly voice, "See this, Alia? Dragunov and Marcos treat their wives like dirt. But I? I treat you like a prize. I show you off because you are the best."
Alia was paralyzed with embarrassment. Seeing those high-profile men humiliate their wives on camera made her realize that she was trapped in a den of monsters.
Victor then turned on his own camera. "If they can show off, so can I. The world needs to see that the King's Queen is incomparable."
He pulled her by her long hair and began to kiss her deeply while the camera was still rolling for the other Lords to see. Alia felt her soul wither under his touch and the prying eyes on the screen. She was bound to a man who loved her with a sickness that had no cure. Victor was as cunning as he was cruel. He knew how to flaunt his dominance without exposing his prize entirely. He positioned the camera in a way that Alia's face remained hidden. Only her long, honey-brown hair splayed across the white sheets and Victor's muscular, tattooed back were visible on the screen.
Alia trembled, burying her face into Victor's chest to escape the digital gaze. Victor laughed, his deep voice dripping with arrogance as he spoke to the other Lords:
"What's the matter, Dragunov? Trying to zoom in? Don't strain your eyes. I'm only showing you how the King of St. Petersburg tames his Queen. You won't get to see her face—that's a view reserved strictly for me."
Marcos shouted through the speaker, "You devil, Victor! You're too smart. Just one glimpse of her face!"
Victor smirked. "No. I don't share like you do. I just wanted to make you jealous. While your wives are screaming in distress, mine is safe and quiet in my arms."
He tossed the phone aside, the camera now pointing harmlessly at the ceiling. He leaned in, whispering to a flushed Alia, "See? I protected you from their eyes while proving you belong to me. Now tell me, could anyone else shield you like this?"Victor's eyes narrowed as the notification light flickered. He picked up the phone, his jaw tightening as he read the new message from the Pentagon Lords group. This time, it wasn't a video—it was a direct challenge from Lord Dragunov.
The message read:
"Victor, you think you're so clever hiding her face. But hiding a diamond only makes everyone want to steal it more. Tonight is the Grand Gala at the Obsidian Hall. Bring your 'Bangladeshi Queen.' Let us see if she is truly worth the oil fields I offered, or if you're just hiding a plain girl behind long hair. If you don't show up, we'll know the King of St. Petersburg has finally become a coward."
Victor's grip on Alia became almost painful. His six-pack tensed against her skin as he let out a low, dangerous growl. Alia didn't need to read the screen to know that a storm was coming.
"Dragunov is baiting me," Victor whispered, his deep voice vibrating with a mix of fury and dark excitement. "He wants to see you. He thinks he can humiliate me by forcing my hand."
Alia looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. "What will you do? Are you going to take me there? To those monsters?"
Victor turned to her, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He stroked her long, brown hair, wrapping a lock of it tightly around his finger.
"Oh, I'm going to take you, Alia. But I won't just take you there I will display you in a way that will make their hearts stop. I will dress you in silk and shadows, and I will show them that while they can look at my Queen, anyone who dares to reach out a hand will lose it."
He leaned in, his owl tattoo looming over her. "Tonight, Alia, you aren't just my wife. You are the weapon I'm going to use to break Dragunov's ego. Are you ready to walk into the lion's den with your King?"
Alia felt a chill run down her spine. She realized that the "joke" was over. The game had just turned into a war, and she was the ultimate prize. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady, heavy beat of his heart. She was terrified, but in this dark empire, Victor was the only thing standing between her and a fate far worse.In the ethereal glow of the Obsidian Hall, Alia sat alone on a velvet sofa, her eyes fixed on her phone screen. She was scrolling through the news of the Lords' arrivals, a desperate attempt to mask the raw fear and discomfort clawing at her chest. In her backless red silk gown, with her long, honey-brown hair cascading down her exposed back in waves, she looked like a mysterious, captive queen.
Suddenly, the massive royal doors of the hall swung open. Lord Dragunov entered with a phalanx of bodyguards, his heavy footsteps seemingly vibrating through the floor. He didn't look at the decor or the other guests; his predatory gaze locked instantly onto Alia.
Dragunov's Reaction
When Alia finally looked up, Dragunov froze. He had only seen blurry fragments on a video call, but standing before her—witnessing that innocent face paired with the sheer elegance of her bare back—he felt his breath hitch.
Dragunov began to walk toward her, his eyes a terrifying cocktail of lust and awe. In his deep, gravelly voice, he spoke directly to her:
"So, this is the King's secret! Victor was right; this is a beauty worth hiding. Even the ice of St. Petersburg would melt against the heat of your skin tonight."
Alia stared at him, paralyzed with fear as he closed the distance. At that exact moment, the hall erupted into a fresh wave of noise. Marcos and the other two Lords entered with their entourages, forming a semi-circle of power and greed behind Dragunov.
Just as Dragunov reached out his hand, intending to touch her, a familiar, thunderous voice boomed from behind:
"Dragunov! Guests belong on the sofas. Do not lay a finger on another man's property."
Victor stepped forward, his powerful frame shielding Alia from the Lords. He placed his hand firmly on her exposed back, a clear gesture of absolute possession. Dragunov let out a twisted smirk.
"You're a lucky man, Victor," Dragunov hissed. "But remember now that the world has seen this jewel, the entire Mafia underworld will be trying to tear down your fortress walls."
The other Lords couldn't tear their eyes away from Alia. They knew then that this wasn't just a party; it was the beginning of a bloody, high-stakes war where Alia was the ultimate prize.The atmosphere in the hall shifted from tense to predatory. As Marcos and the other two Lords stepped closer, their eyes raked over Alia, taking in the curve of her waist and the daring cut of her backless gown. They were men who had seen everything, yet Alia's combination of innocent vulnerability and raw elegance left them stunned.
Marcos, a man known for his lack of filter, let out a low whistle that echoed through the silent hall. He leaned toward the other Lords, his eyes glued to Alia.
"Sexy... she's more than just sexy," Marcos whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of envy and lust. "She's a masterpiece, Victor. No wonder you were hiding her like a coward. If I had a woman who looked like that in a red dress, I'd never let her see the light of day either."
The other two Lords nodded in silent agreement, their gazes traveling from her long, flowing hair down to where the red silk met her skin. To them, she wasn't a person; she was the most expensive "item" in the room.
Alia felt their eyes like a physical weight. Her skin crawled, and her face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. She looked down at her phone, her knuckles turning white as she gripped it.
Victor's Dominance
Victor felt the hunger in the room, and it fueled his ego. Instead of covering her up, he tightened his grip on her bare waist, his fingers pressing into her skin to show everyone exactly who she belonged to. He looked at the other Lords, his deep voice booming with cold authority.
"Watch your tongues," Victor warned, his eyes flashing with a murderous glint. "She is the Queen of St. Petersburg. You can look, but if I hear one more word about her body from your filthy mouths, this gala will turn into a funeral."
Despite his threat, the damage was done. The word "Sexy" hung in the air like a curse. Alia realized that by bringing her here and dressing her this way, Victor hadn't just protected her—he had turned her into a target for every powerful man in Europe.
Dragunov stepped back, clinking his glass of vodka. "A funeral? Perhaps. but for whom, Victor? Because looking at her... I think any man here would be willing to die just to have her for a single hour."
Alia looked up at Victor, her heart racing. She saw the pride in his eyes he loved that they were jealous. He loved that she was the most desired woman in the room.