Victor's obsession had now spiraled beyond all control. Keeping Alia's hands pinned firmly against the wall, he lowered himself further. His eyes were locked onto the silk restraints on her back.
In a display of absolute dominance and primal arrogance, Victor did not use his hands. To prove his power, he leaned in and used his mouth and teeth to graze the thin silk ribbon of Alia's dress.
Alia pressed her face hard against the cold wall, her breathing becoming rapid and heavy. She could feel the searing heat of Victor's lips and the sharp graze of his teeth against her exposed skin. With a calculated yet predatory intensity, Victor caught the knot of the silk ribbon between his teeth and gave it a sharp tug.
A second of dead silence followed... and then, the slender ribbon unraveled and came loose.
Victor: (His voice muffled, still gripping the silk ribbon between his teeth) "Tonight, I strip away your cloak of nobility not with my hands, but with my teeth. Let's see how your pride protects you now."
As the ribbon gave way, Alia's black silk dress lost its anchor and began to slip down her body. In the dead of that -20 Moscow night, the heat inside the room felt as though it was on the verge of exploding. Alia realized that she was now, quite literally, standing at Victor's mercy.
Outside the window, the snow continued to fall, while inside, Victor was systematically shattering every layer of Alia's resistance.Victor's obsession had turned into a primal fever. After untying the ribbon, he didn't find pinning her against the wall enough anymore. He wanted to elevate his dominance to a final, inescapable level.
As Alia tried to clutch her slipping dress, Victor spun her around and swept her off her feet into his arms. Her body crashed against his powerful frameAlia could feel the searing heat radiating from his chest.
Victor: (Staring directly into her eyes, his voice low and dangerous) "You fought well against the wall, Alia. Now, let's take you to the real throne of my empire. Tonight, there is no Shadow Hand, no phone—only you and me."
Alia tried to dig her nails into his neck, but Victor seemed immune to pain. He began walking toward the massive, regal bed in the center of the room. Outside, the blizzard intensified, as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the dim glow of the lamps inside this room. Alia realized she was physically overpowered, but her mind was still racing, preparing her very last move even as she was carried toward her fate. The frozen Moscow night reached its absolute, suffocating peak. Outside the window, the blizzard roared, while inside the room, Victor's dominance and Alia's long-simmering fury collided with devastating force.
Victor laid Alia down on the massive, regal bed. As the cool silk of the sheets touched her skin, she shivered, but there was no path for escape. In an instant, Victor loomed over her, gripping both her hands firmly and pinning them against the mattress.
Alia struggled for a moment, but she was helpless against the sheer weight of his body and his monstrous strength. The lights in the room had dimmed, leaving only the faint, pale reflection of the Moscow snow and the low amber glow of a single lampshade to illuminate their frames.
There were no more words—only the sound of two fierce rivals breathing in the dark. As Victor asserted his final, absolute claim over her, a long, sharp "Ahhhh" escaped Alia's lips. It was a sound that blurred the line between a cry of defeat and the beginning of a terrifying new vengeance.
Outside, the snowfall intensified, as if the coldness of nature itself had surrendered to the fire burning within these walls. Victor believed he had finally conquered Alia, crushing her pride beneath him on his own bed. But when Alia looked up into his eyes, there were no tears only a burning, lethal spark.
Victor: (In a low, guttural rasp) "Tell me now, Alia... who is the King, and who is the Queen?"
Alia offered no verbal answer. She simply endured the depths of his touch, waiting for the exact moment of his greatest vulnerability. She knew that when Victor felt he had won everything, that was precisely when his downfall would begin.It was exactly midnight. As the blizzard raged outside, the atmosphere inside the room was volcanic. Alia, overwhelmed by a mix of pain and defiance, clutched the bedsheet between her teeth, biting down hard to stifle her cries—"Umm..." She refused to show Victor any sign of surrender.Alia's long, dark hair spilled across the bed like a sea of black silk. In a surge of dominance, Victor reached out and pulled her hair back with a forceful tug. Her head snapped back, exposing her throat completely to him. His fingers were tangled deep in her locks, as if he were controlling her very soul through those silken strands.
"No matter how much you hide behind that sheet," Victor growled, "your hair is the chain that binds you to me. After midnight, you have no past only this bed and my grip."
Alia bit the sheet even harder. The pain at her roots was sharp, but it fueled her resolve. She was counting the seconds, waiting for the exact moment Victor's fire would turn into the ashes of exhaustion.The night grew even darker. Victor's predatory dominance reached its peak as he delved deeper, losing himself in the moment. He lowered his face to Alia's neck, taking slow, deep breaths that carried the chilling satisfaction of a conqueror.
Without a moment's pause, he gripped Alia's slender waist with bruising force, his fingers digging into her skin as if marking his territory. He then gathered both her hands and pinned them above her head even more strongly, leaving her completely immobilized.
"I will burn you to ashes in this Moscow cold, Alia," Victor rasped. "Every breath you take is mine now. Don't try to run... there is no escape tonight."
Alia continued to bite the sheet, her body contorting in pain, yet her mind remained icy cold. She felt Victor reaching the height of his obsession the exact moment a man is most vulnerable. Beneath the sheets near her feet, a tiny, lethal Venetian steel pin lay hidden. She was waiting for him to let his guard down for just one second.
It was 1:00 AM. As Victor tightened his hold on her waist, a faint, distant siren echoed through the blizzard. Victor didn't hear it, but to Alia, it was the sound of the signal she had been waiting for. Victor's frenzy had now transcended all limits of control. He pulled his hands away from Alia's head, but not to grant her freedom—rather, to consolidate his hold over her entirely.
Victor leaned over Alia with predatory intent. He used both of his hands to seize her waist (Waist) with crushing force. His powerful fingers dug into the soft skin of her waist as if he were trying to shatter a marble statue. Under the pressure of this monstrous strength, Alia's body arched like a bow.
Alia remained there, gritting the bedsheet between her teeth, tears of agony streaming from her eyes, yet she refused to let a single sound escape her lips. Victor tightened his grip even further, pulling her body flush against his own, merging their forms in the dim light.
Victor: (Panting, his voice demonic) "This waist, this body... I am the master of it all today. Where is that 'Shadow Hand' you were so proud of? Look, Alia, there is no one here to witness your bone-chilling torment."
Victor held her with such brute force that Alia lost even the strength to move. But what Victor didn't know was that as he gripped her waist and pulled her toward him, Alia's right leg was slowly inching toward a hidden corner of the bed.
Outside, the Moscow blizzard lashed against the windowpane like a volley of arrows. Victor's sweat mingled with Alia's skin, creating a strange heat that mocked the temperature outside.
Alia: (Releasing the sheet, whispering faintly) "You... you may conquer me today, Victor... but before this night is over... you will lose your empire."
Victor laughed a dark, wicked sound. He increased the pressure on her waist, making it clear that tonight, he didn't care for empires; her body was his only target.The clock struck 3:00 AM. The blizzard outside Moscow had settled into a low, haunting whistle, but the air inside the penthouse remained thick with the scent of sweat and betrayal. Victor sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular chest glistening, his breath still heavy and ragged. He looked back at Alia, who was now lost in a deep, exhausted sleep, her spirit broken and her body drained of all strength.
Victor reached for his encrypted phone. He didn't just want to conquer Alia; he wanted to humiliate her before the most powerful men on the planet.
THE PENTAGON LORDS
Victor opened WhatsApp and navigated to a ghost-encrypted group. This was the sanctuary of the five most dangerous men in the underworld.
X WhatsApp Group: THE PENTAGON LORDSLord Territory Status
Lord Dragonov Mexico Cartel King
Lord Marcos Italy The Strategist
Lord Lucian Korea Underworld Godfather
Lord Nikolai Europe Arms Emperor
Lord Viktor Russia The Dark Lord / Group LeaderWith a sadistic smirk, Victor snapped an intimate photo of the sleeping Alia—her long hair tangled across the pillows, her elegance stripped away by the night's events. He hit "Send."
Viktor (Russia): "Tonight, the Queen of Russia lies at my feet. The Dark Lord always claims what is hisImmediately, the group ignited. Lord Dragonov and Lord Lucian replied with dark jests, sending photos of their own wives in similar vulnerable states, turning the chat into a gruesome competition of ego and power.
But Lord Marcos (Italy) remained silent.
As Marcos stared at the photo of Alia on his screen, his blood turned to ice. He wasn't just another Lord; he was Alia's ex-boyfriend. He had loved her once, and seeing her humiliated by a beast like Victor triggered a primal rage within him. His heart sank as he looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, now a trophy in a madman's gallery.
Lord Marcos: (To himself, gripping his phone) "Victor... you haven't just touched Alia. You've insulted the honor of the House of Italy. You will pay for this in blood."