The delicate little white blossom who had been pampered all her life had never learned how to endure even the smallest slight.
"Where did you learn how to drive?! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Evelyn burst out, lashing out at the other driver.
She had already forgotten that she was the one who ran the red light. Fear took a back seat to indignation.
She yanked off her seatbelt, drew in a shaky breath, and shoved the car door open.
Her stilettos struck the pavement with sharp, unsteady clicks as she hurried toward the black behemoth. Her eyes were red, voice trembling with tears and outrage.
"Hey! What's wrong with you?! It was a red light! Didn't you see the red light? Driving so slow in the middle of the road—"
Her words tumbled out, furious and fragile all at once.
She even lifted her small fist, intending to pound against the dark-tinted window.
And then... The rear window facing her lowered slowly.
A face, sharp and sculpted like ice carved into human form, emerged from the shadows of the car.
Under the dim interior lighting, his features were half-lit, half-shrouded—cold, precise, merciless.
Ares Gabriel regarded the tiny, furious woman before him with eyes that darkened slightly, as though assessing an inconvenience rather than a person.
Evelyn's raised hand froze midair. A tear still clung to her lashes.
All her anger, grievance, and shrill indignation shattered the instant her gaze collided with those ice-blue eyes.
A chill shot up her spine, making her shiver involuntarily.
It was him.
The terrifyingly intense man from the garden path.
Ares's gaze drifted over her heaving chest before settling, unhurried, on her slightly parted pink lips.
"Miss," he said calmly, "That little crash just now… Wiped out at least three months of a certain organization's weapons budget."
Evelyn's mind went blank.
Weapons? Organization? What did that even mean?
Her body swayed. For a second, she nearly collapsed, barely steadying herself in time.
Who had she just hit? Was this… some kind of mafia lord?
She had always heard M Nation was chaotic, but she hadn't realized it was this intense.
Regret hit her like a second collision.
Had she just yelled at a criminal lord? Had her tone been too harsh?
Before she could gather her thoughts, the front passenger door opened.
Alfred stepped out, silver hair gleaming coldly beneath the streetlights. He rounded the vehicle and inclined his head respectfully toward Ares.
"Boss," he asked evenly, "shall we handle it the usual way?"
The word "handle" pierced Evelyn's ears. Her breath caught sharply.
Handle her? The usual way? How? Mafia-style?
She stared at the man behind the window, lips trembling, unable to form a single coherent word.
Ares's gaze remained on her tear-streaked face.
The fierce little kitten who had just been ready to claw at him now looked pitiful—eyes glistening, cheeks damp.
His eyes lowered slowly. Down to her pale throat.
To her collarbone.
A diamond-set pearl necklace rested there, the round, luminous pearl rising and falling with the tremble of her breath.
Something flickered—just faintly—within the frozen depths of his eyes.
A ripple beneath ice.
He was silent for a few seconds.
Then he gave the order. "Take her."
No explanation. No elaboration. Just a command.
To him, taking someone away was no more complicated than picking up a stray kitten from the roadside.
After all...
Breaking a spoiled, fragile little princess down to tears completely seemed far more interesting than destroying her outright.