It was nearly 4:00 AM. Victor sat leaned back against the headboard, lighting an expensive cigar. Watching the chaos in the group chat filled him with a demonic satisfaction. Seeing Lord Marcos remain silent while the others exchanged photos, Victor sent a voice note.
Victor: (Laughing) "What's the matter, Marcos? Why so quiet? Are you feeling jealous? Ahhhh... words can't describe the satisfaction of tonight."
Without waiting any longer, Victor started a Video Call. One by one, the faces of the five most dangerous men on Earth appeared on the screen.
THE PENTAGON LORDS: LIVE VIDEO CONFERENCE
In the dim glow of the Moscow lampshade, Victor's sweat-glistened body was visible, and behind him, Alia lay in a deep, unconscious sleep.
Lord Dragonov (Mexico): "Victor, you've made history! Russia's most precious diamond is finally in your hands."
Lord Lucian (Korea): "You're taking a huge risk, Victor. When Alia wakes up, she won't leave a single piece of you intact."
Lord Nikolai (Europe): "Forget that! Everyone kneels before the Dark Lord."
On one side of the video call, Lord Marcos (Italy) had a face as hard as stone. Sitting in his expensive leather chair, he stared intently at Alia behind the screen. The red wine in his hand trembled violently.
Victor: (Teasing Marcos) "What's up, Marcos? Why aren't you speaking? Your old flame is in my bed now. Are you burning with jealousy?"
Lord Marcos: (In a cold, grave voice) "Victor, you made a massive mistake tonight. You've mistaken a predator for prey. You are king while she sleeps, but when she opens her eyes... you are nothing but a corpse."
Victor burst into a villainous laugh. He turned the camera to show him stroking Alia's hair.
Victor: "Even if she opens her eyes, she will remain my slave. As the head of the Pentagon Lords, I declare today—
Alia is now my property."
Lord Marcos didn't say another word. He disconnected the call. The moment the call ended, Marcos summoned his security chief.Victor's raucous laughter and Lord Marcos's cold threat poisoned the atmosphere of the video call even further. The moment Marcos disconnected, the remaining three Lords—Dragonov, Lucian, and Nikolai—looked at one another and burst into loud laughter.
The echoes of their mockery reverberated through the silent Moscow penthouse.
Lord Dragonov (Mexico): "Look at that! It seems Marcos has turned into a true romantic! The Italian Don is now nothing but a soft, whimpering child!"
Lord Lucian (Korea): (Laughing) "The poor guy must be deeply embarrassed. Seeing his ex-girlfriend in the Russian Dark Lord's bed is a bitter pill for a man with an ego like his to swallow."
Lord Nikolai (Europe): "Of course he's embarrassed! Marcos thought he could control Alia, but Victor won the bet right in his face. Didn't you see how dark his face turned before he shut down the call?"
Exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke, Victor laughed and said, "He's just a boy. He has seen power, but he doesn't know how to taste it. After tonight, my word will be law in the Pentagon Group."
The other three Lords stopped their laughter, wished Victor well, and signed off from the video call one by one. They all believed Victor was invincible today.
But inside the room, the tides began to shift. Only seconds after the call ended, the fingers of the "deeply sleeping" Alia twitched slightly. Victor, busy finishing his cigar, failed to notice that Alia was no longer in a deep slumber. Lord Marcos's words "When she opens her eyes, you are nothing but a corpse" seemed to hang suspended in the freezing air.
Without even opening her eyes, Alia could sense the humiliation surrounding her. She realized that Victor had broadcasted her image and videos to the world's most dangerous men. Her heartbeat was slow but resolute. She was now merely waiting for the perfect moment. In the heavy, stifling atmosphere of the bed, a strange shift occurred. Overcoming the stinging burn of humiliation, Alia's subconscious mind began to entangle itself in a different kind of trance. Amidst Victor's searing body heat and overwhelming arrogance, Alia started to feel an unknown thrill.
As Alia slowly returned to the depths of her consciousness, she found herself no longer wanting to hate him. Her breath grew significantly heavier and more rapid. Victor's demonic proximity began to create a peculiar sense of pleasure within her body. The stubbornness of her body and mind seemed to slowly melt away.
Victor extinguished his cigar in the ashtray and leaned over her. He sensed the change in the rhythm of her breathing. In an unexpectedly tender gesture, Victor planted a deep kiss on her flushed cheek. His fingers began to weave gently through her hair.
Victor softened his deep, Russian voice, beginning to speak in the Russian language. His tone was no longer that of a mafia don, but that of a primal lover.
Victor: (Whispering inches away) "Owwwww... Moja milaya malen'kaya zhena (Owwwww... my dear little wife)..."
The gentle cadence of his Russian address created a magical spell near Alia's ear. By calling her his "cute little wife," Victor seemed to trap her within a web of illusion. Even if she wanted to, Alia could no longer open her eyes; instead, she surrendered herself further into his affection.
Outside, the snowy Moscow night stood as a witness where one moment there was hatred, the next, the fires of desire began to burn. Victor knew he hadn't just conquered Alia; he had imprisoned her in his addiction. Victor moved slowly from Alia's cheek and paused just inches from her lips. Her breathing was so rapid that her chest heaved. Victor didn't waste another second. He laid a deep, possessive kiss on her lips.
There was no mercy in that kiss, only a primal claim. A surge of electricity shot through Alia's body. She lost all sense of her conscious self. Her hands, which had been pushing him away moments ago, instinctively gripped Victor's broad shoulders.
Alia: (In a faint whisper, with a long breath) "J..."
Before she could utter his name or any other word, she was pulled back into the depths of that kiss. Her rebellious spirit had finally surrendered to the flames of desire. In the freezing Moscow night, this room had become a living inferno where even pain felt sweet.Victor's obsession was no longer just about pride; it had transformed into an uncontrollable addiction. Sensing Alia's faint surrender, he grew even more feral and hungry.
He deepened the embrace, kissing her with a profound, soul-consuming intensity. It was a long, breathless seal, as if Victor was devouring her very essence. Alia's world spun out of control. The sheer heat of his lips and the weight of his muscular frame pushed her into a trance where she forgot everything her vengeance, her identity, and her pride.
Victor: (Between heavy, ragged breaths) "You are mine, Alia... from this second, I own every breath you take."
He gripped the back of her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair, ensuring she couldn't move even an inch away from his claim. In that dark Moscow night, the only sound was the echo of their heavy breathing and the silent roar of a primal victory.Victor's deep and thirsty kiss had now transformed into a primal frenzy. He had taken Alia into his possession so intimately that no distance remained between them.
As Victor pulled Alia even deeper toward him, the union of their lips grew more intense by the second. In the intoxication of that heated kiss, their saliva mingled and became one. Amidst the freezing cold of Moscow, their hot breaths and this wet, visceral connection created a demonic heat.
Alia was now completely disoriented. The combination of Victor's masculine scent and the fusion of their senses threw her into a strange, dizzying trance. She forgot her nobility; she forgot her stubbornness. She could only feel Victor's thirst, which was slowly consuming her whole.
Victor didn't give Alia a single moment to catch her breath. Maintaining his grip on her lips, he pressed her further into the bed. This intimate physical union was no longer just a power struggle; it had turned into an uncontrollable addiction.
Victor: (Whispering between kisses) "You have merged into my blood, Alia. From now on, every atom of your being will speak only of me."
In her delirium, Alia dug her nails into Victor's back. Every moment of that deep kiss seemed to bind them in a new kind of chain one where the pleasure of desire was far more piercing than any pain.