The scratch of a cheap pen against a yellowed piece of scrap paper was the only sound inside the cramped, suffocating walls of the small house. Duro sat hunched over the rickety wooden table, his eyes tracking the uneven lines of ink. He was trying to write down fragments—names, dates, half-remembered places—anything to anchor his fracturing mind before the fog rolled in again. Every line was a desperate attempt to build a wall between Jannah and the ghosts of their past.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound wasn’t the gentle, rhythmic tap Jannah always used when she returned from her shifts. It was a heavy thud that shook the rusted hinges of the warped wooden door.

Duro’s pen froze. A sudden dread pooled in his stomach, pulling his spine rigid. He slowly stood up, the old floorboards groaning beneath his weight. He stepped out of the small room, crossing the narrow threshold toward the front door. The moment he pulled it open, the dim light of the ghetto lane revealed the stark white hair, the expensive dark silk suit, and the cold eyes staring back at him.

Bellero Boren stood on the cracked pavement, flanked by four silent bodyguards in black gear, their weapons casting shadows across the alleyway.

Panic flared in Duro’s chest. His survival instincts, honed by years of living in terror, screamed at him. He gripped the edge of the door and tried to slam it shut.

Thud.

Bellero’s hand shot forward, his palm catching the solid wood with effortless, crushing strength. The door stopped dead in its tracks. A laugh vibrated from the Mafia lord’s throat as he leaned his weight against the frame, easily overpowering the old man’s desperate resistance.

"Now, now, Duro," Bellero murmured, his voice dripping with venomous politeness. "How bad of a person do you have to be to not welcome old visitors? Is this how you teach manners in the slums?"

With a sudden, aggressive shove, Bellero forced the door wide open, pushing Duro backward into the small house. The bodyguards stepped inside behind him, immediately fanning out and filling the small, cramped space until the air grew suffocatingly thin. The terrifying, dominant pressure of Bellero’s Alpha pheromones began to leak into the room, making the shadows look darker.

Bellero adjusted the cuffs of his expensive suit, looking around the modest room with disdain before locking his eyes onto Duro. "So tell me, old man... have you finally regained your precious memories? Are you ready to talk right now, or are we going to keep pretending this pathetic little shack belongs to an innocent grandfather?"

Duro stood his ground, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides to hide their trembling. He forced his voice to remain flat, injecting as much iron into it as his aging lungs could manage. "Go away, Bellero. Get out of my house. We don’t have anything to talk about."

"Oh, we have everything to talk about," Bellero hissed, stepping closer until his towering frame completely engulfed Duro in shadow. He leaned down, his face inches from Duro’s. "Have you regained your memories and talked to your grandchild yet? Or are you still playing those pathetic little games with her, pretending you can’t remember anything?"

Duro’s jaw clenched, a flash of defensive fury breaking through his fear. "My relationship with my grandchild has absolutely nothing to do with you! What I tell Jannah or what I keep from her is my own business. Mind your own."

"Of course it has everything to do with me!" Bellero suddenly roared, his voice booming against the thin walls. His golden eyes flared with a dangerous fire. "Listen to me very carefully, Duro. You need to hurry up. You need to use whatever authority you have left in that old skull of yours to make Jannah marry my son. Do you understand me? You need to take her away from the Grefo estate immediately."

Bellero took a breath, his chest heaving beneath his vest as he paced the small room like a beast. "Do you honestly think by letting her stay inside the Grefo walls she is safe? Do you think Guron or that S-tier bastard Dorrent will protect her out of the goodness of their hearts? No way! They are using her, just like they use everyone else. You need to make her leave that estate, Duro. Bring her to my circle. Make her marry Damian."

Duro looked at the Mafia lord, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt a sickening wave of revulsion washing over him. He knew exactly what kind of man Bellero was. He was a monster who ruled the underworld through terror and blood, a man who Duro was certain had engineered the horrific deaths of Jannah’s parents nine years ago, even if the proof had been buried beneath cover-ups.

Weighing the two options in his mind, Duro felt a cold clarity settle into his chest. Guron Grefo was an influential, manipulative corporate tyrant, yes. But Bellero Boren was a savage, remorseless monster. There was absolutely no way in hell he would hand his precious, innocent grandchild over to a beast like this.

"We can’t force Jannah to get married to someone she doesn’t want," Duro said, his voice dropping into a hard, unyielding line. "She is a human being, Bellero. She isn’t a piece of property you can negotiate over. She will choose her own husband on her own terms."

Bellero stopped pacing. He turned slowly, a chilling smirk twisting the corners of his mouth. The silence that followed was freezing the very air in the room.

"She doesn’t have a choice in this, Duro," Bellero whispered, his voice dropping into a rasp that made the hair on the back of Duro’s neck stand up. "Making her own choice in this matter will only lead to her facing the same tragic fate as Frost. Your silly, stubborn daughter. The one who thought she could reject me and live happily ever after."

The brutal mention of Jannah’s mother hit Duro like a physical blow.

"Frost rejected me," Bellero continued, his eyes darkening with malice as decades of buried humiliation boiled to the surface. "She chose that useless, pathetic martial artist Beta man for a husband, thinking his loyalty and his weak little forms could protect her. And what happened nine years ago, Duro? Where was that glorious martial arts training when the flames took them? It couldn’t save them. It couldn’t protect them from the reality of who commands this city. Jannah will only live happily and protected if she is with my son. So you better start acting soon."

Duro’s breathing turned ragged, hatred flaring in his chest as he stared at the remorseless face of his daughter’s killer. He wanted to scream, to tear the monster apart with his bare hands, but he forced the explosive emotion down. He had to be smart. He had to protect Jannah.

Looking for a way to cut this terrifying interaction short and get Bellero out of the house, Duro swallowed the bitter taste of defeat and forced his expression to neutralize.

"Forcing them together won’t guarantee anything, Bellero," Duro said, his voice tight but controlled. "Even if I tell her to leave, she has to be in love with Damian for a marriage to work. A forced bond will just shatter."

Bellero let out a dismissive wave of his hand, turning back toward the exit. "Love will come with nature, old man. It always does once the ring is on the finger. You don’t have to worry about the details."

Duro took a slow, agonizing breath, his fingers tightening against his thighs. "Fine. I’ll see what I can do."

Bellero paused at the threshold, his hand resting on the rusted frame of the door. He cast one final glance over his shoulder, his eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal promise of violence. "You better do so soon, Duro. Before history decides to repeat itself."

With a tilt of his head, Bellero stepped out into the midnight dark of 3rd Street, his bodyguards following silently behind him, slamming the wooden door shut and leaving Duro alone in the suffocating silence.

Duro collapsed back onto the rickety wooden chair, his entire frame shaking slightly as the adrenaline finally drained from his system. His mind raced through the terrifying reality of the situation. Jannah was in extreme danger. The sharks were circling the slums, and Bellero was ready to tear the city apart to claim her.

He knew his grandchild. He knew Jannah’s fierce, stubborn pride. She would never accept marrying just anyone she didn’t like, let alone a Boren. For years, she had deliberately remained single, avoiding any romantic connection out of a lingering fear of bringing harm to any Alpha who tried to date her. She would refuse any arranged marriage, especially one entirely devoid of love.

But staying unprotected in the slums or running into Bellero’s jaws meant death.

Duro’s eyes tracked the fragments of paper on the table, a desperate resolve hardening inside his chest. Between the monster Bellero and the powerful, untouchable shield of the Grefo empire, there was only one choice that ensured her survival. Dorrent Grefo was an arrogant, volatile S-tier Alpha, but he possessed the power to keep her alive.

If Jannah had to be bound to an Alpha to survive this war, it would be the one who could crush Bellero Boren under his heel.

Duro gripped the edges of the table, his knuckles turning white as he stared blankly into the shadows of the small house, his voice cutting through the silence.

"No matter what it takes... no matter what lies I have to tell or what traps I have to set... I will make sure she belongs to Dorrent Grefo."