Chapter 51

Makizal was the epitome of calculated savagery, a robust, seductive silhouette, agile as a striking fox, yet as discreet in his movements as a desert chameleon. He oversaw Evelyn’s neutralization with chilling efficiency. She had fought at first, breath short, muscles thrashing, but once the hood came down over her head, her world had collapsed into darkness. A darkness Makizal made sure stayed absolute. He dragged her down the hallway like a captured beast, her wrists raw from the restraints, until he locked her in the private room Williams had prepared. The place smelled of cold metal and disinfectant, as if it had been waiting for her long before this night.

Her phone lay on Williams’s desk, untouched.

He had wanted to scroll through it, to see what secrets she carried, but Williams’s order had been sharp and cold enough to slice through him.

“Don’t touch anything. I’ll handle her myself.”

So, the device waited under surveillance, silent and faintly glowing like a trap.

Makizal closed the door behind him, exhaled, then stepped into the night again.

|12:00 PM

Tonight, he had one more task. His black sedan tore through the suburban sprawl, slicing into the dark, quiet roads leading out of the city. The ambient light of streetlamps streamed across his face, revealing the predatory anticipation in his eyes. He felt a potent, almost euphoric lightness, the energy of a predator finally given leave to hunt.

The car screeched to a halt before a dilapidated, isolated house, a place of ruin perfect for a final, private conversation. Guards, anonymous shadows in tactical gear, melted into the surrounding darkness, while two more stood sentinel at the battered wooden door.

Makizal entered the foyer, adjusting the cuff of his suit with fastidious calm. “Here we are,” he announced, his voice smooth and echoing slightly in the stale air. He walked into the main room, his eyes instantly locating his target. “Well, well, who do I see here?”

Romaric sat slumped in a reinforced steel chair, gagged with a thick strip of black cloth, his hands and feet secured with industrial ties. His face was a swollen ruin, a mask of bruised flesh and coagulated blood; he was barely recognizable.

“He refuses to unlock the phone,” one of the guards reported, his voice flat.

“Hmph.” Makizal approached slowly, circling the captive before pulling up a chair directly opposite him. He gestured sharply to the guards. “Leave us. Wait outside.”

The door shut, plunging the room into a heavier silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Romaric’s breathing.

Makizal leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze glittering. “So, Romaric, what is the issue? You do not want to provide Williams with the information she so desperately needs?”

Romaric’s voice was muffled at first, until Makizal removed the gag.

“If she wants information,” Romaric rasped, “then let me give it to her myself.”

Makizal chuckled, slow and poisonous.

“You know that is not happening. I am here to protect her from traitors.”

Romaric spat blood onto the floor and laughed, a ragged, mocking sound.

“Tell me, Makizal, how many times did you get hard today? Because I swear, I can still feel your excitement from here.”

Makizal stiffened.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” Romaric’s smile bent despite the swelling. “Look at you, vibrating like a little boy who just secured his first date with the head cheerleader. You are pathetic.”

Makizal rose, expression tightening. He circled Romaric, fingers brushing through his hair with a cold familiarity.

“Do you know what you are?” Makizal whispered. “Recycled trash. A tragic, failed experiment. We both know why you protect Williams’s family. And I know everything about you and Kai Malee. It must hurt, must it not? To love a woman madly devoted to her husband, and to have to protect her daughter, only to feel close to her shadow again. Except…”

“Shut up!” Romaric roared, his head snapping forward.

Makizal smiled, almost pitying.

“If that is the case, then expect to be discarded the day she no longer needs your services.”

Makizal leaned in. His voice lowered like a blade slipping between ribs. “Of course it is possible. After all, it is a service. But I do not mix professionalism with pathetic emotional attachments. Williams and I are compatible. I am the man who knows her needs, her desires. Even when we do not speak, we communicate.”

Romaric looked into Makizal’s feverish, glittering eyes.

“Williams is the thought, and I am the action, the man she can lean on, the one who can confidently act in her place. That,” Makizal tapped his own chest, “is professionalism. And then there is the personal side. That is how, over time, I will become the man she cannot do without. One day, she will look at me and…”

“Hahahaha!” Romaric burst into manic laughter. “When you keep your mouth shut, you almost look smart.”

Makizal stared at him, face impassive. “Since I set foot in that hospital, you have not liked me. What did I do?”

“You are a dirty, mentally disturbed rat whose self-worth is entirely tied to the dominance of a single woman,” Romaric spat. “Now, if you want to ask questions, ask. If you want access to my phone, never.”

A vein pulsed in Makizal’s temple, but he did not strike. Instead, he pulled out a gun and placed the cold barrel against Romaric’s forehead. Romaric did not blink.

Makizal leaned in close, the scent of expensive cologne and adrenaline thick between them. “It is sad you lost your way, Romaric. I have heard many things about you. You were not like this before. You see, you are not afraid to die. Because you know the rule. We do not fear death. We follow orders. The question is, who is the real psychopath, the one who kills or the one who commands it?”

“And is that what Williams asked you to do, shoot me?”

Makizal adjusted the trigger. “What do you think?”

He squeezed.

Romaric’s body jerked.

No bullet.

Makizal lowered the gun.

“She wants you gone,” he said quietly.

For the first time, Romaric paled.

“You were her most trusted. Now you are her doubt. She wants to know everything you hid, everything you planned.” Makizal sat again. “I could kill you right now and get the answers from your phone anyway. But I am generous.”

Romaric stared, desperate calculations racing behind his eyes.

“Unlock it,” Makizal whispered. “I will not get into your personal business; I will only focus on what regards Williams.”

Romaric hesitated, but the weight of Williams’s betrayal shattered something inside him. His trembling fingers unlocked the phone.

Makizal took what he needed in thirty minutes, expression unreadable.

Then he stood.

“I am giving you a chance. If you escape this room, you will earn your revenge. I will not send anyone after you. If you die here…” he shrugged, “…that is life.”

He turned off the lights.

Locked the door.

Left Romaric in the darkness to bleed or survive.

For Makizal, either outcome was entertainment.

He loved this game of survival, the hunt that followed, the thrill of domination.

Tonight, he was unleashed.

By dawn, the city whispered of broken doors and silent kidnappings. Makizal’s men dragged people from their homes, forced signatures on agreements, and threatened families. Others vanished into the night. Anyone who dared resist was crushed.

Williams had the resources. Makizal had the brutality.

Perfect synergy.

And while chaos spread across the city, Williams rested, preparing herself for the grand moment she had planned, elegant and untouchable.

Makizal drove back, exhausted but exhilarated, until a memory flashed like a blade.

Flash Romaric’s warning

He had caught Makizal staring too long at Williams during an operation.

“When I look at you,” Romaric had said, “I see your fantasies.”

Makizal had frowned.

“What?”

“I see how you look at Williams. Your eyes discreetly grazing every inch of her skin. You would love to savor her, desk-ridden, pinned down. That is what truly excites you.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“You like fierce women. You like the ones who are just out of reach, who dominate you.”

Makizal had managed a strained smile. “You are delusional. I am just doing my job.”

“I just hope what you are saying is true,” Romaric had warned, the levity gone. “Remember, there is a thin line between professionalism and personal obsession. That complicity you feel often gets mixed up. The day you cross that line, I would advise you to withdraw immediately, because Williams does not love you and she never will. You will only end up destroying yourself.”

End

Makizal had left that day without a reply. But Romaric was right.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Romaric had seen the truth in his eyes, the feverish desire. Who would not risk playing with fire just to stand next to Williams, to feel the front-row elegance radiating from her overwhelming, dominant charisma?

A wave of melancholy, quickly suppressed, washed over him. Because, like a cruel prophecy, Romaric had also predicted his fate. Williams had just dispensed with his services, a final, unceremonious dismissal. She wanted him dead.

He inhaled, slow and trembling.

Maybe he should have listened.

Maybe professionalism had never been enough to protect him from what he felt.

But even now, even knowing he was next, he could not regret it.

Because for one intoxicating moment in his life, he had stood close enough to touch the fire that was Williams.

And now, she would burn him alive.

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