The long, agonizing hours of the afternoon dissolved into the gloom of early evening, but the toxic tension within the walls of the Grefo estate had not dissipated even a single fraction of a degree.

Dorrent stood alone near the sweeping, floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the grand library adjacent to the master suite, his hands locked inside the pockets of his tailored trousers. He had finally changed out of the blood-drenched casual attire from the morning, but his frame still radiated a volatile energy that kept every servant and guard in the mansion paralyzed with fear. His silver eyes remained fixed on the dark, looming shadows of the estate grounds, his mind analyzing the chessboard of the city’s upper and lower sectors with cold, predatory calculation.

The heavy doors of the library glid open with a slow, deliberate click, signaling the arrival of an immense, dominant presence.

Guron Grefo stepped into the room, fresh from his daily high-stakes corporate doings at the Gammar Technology headquarters. The older Alpha’s posture was entirely rigid, his eyes projecting the absolute, unyielding authority of a man who had ruled the city’s corporate hierarchy for over three decades. He didn’t waste a single second on pleasantries. He strode across the polished floorboards, his footsteps echoing like a rhythmic countdown until he stopped exactly three paces away from his son’s towering physique.

"I have just been briefed by the external security detail," Guron began, his deep, authoritative voice slicing through the quiet room. He leveled a harsh, demanding glare at Dorrent’s profile. "What exactly happened to Jannah Nenth this morning, Dorrent? Why is the herbalist currently locked inside our private medical wing under a high-threat home care setup?"

Dorrent didn’t turn his head to look at his father. His handsome features remained an unreadable, freezing block of stone as he stared out into the darkness. "She was shot," Dorrent answered simply, his deep voice dropping into a flat, gravelly register that carried an absolute refusal to expand on the details. He purposefully omitted the connection to the Boren syndicate, keeping the catastrophic truth about the Mafia prince’s involvement completely locked away in his chest. "A sniper opened fire on my vehicle while we were navigating an isolated road near the lower border. A single high-velocity bullet pierced her right ribs. She is currently stable, but unconscious."

Guron’s jaw tightened instantly, his eyes flaring with a sudden, sharp burst of irritation. He took a heavy step forward, his dominant aura expanding until it actively crowded Dorrent’s winter-frost frequency. "A sniper? On an open road? I hope to God you have not provoked another major corporate house or an aggressive competitor with that reckless, volatile temper of yours, Dorrent. I hope your toxic pride has not pushed someone to the absolute edge, causing them to start actively hunting you down in the streets, and that poor slum girl simply ended up taking the bullet that was explicitly meant for your heart."

Guron shook his head with an intense, professional disdain, his voice rising in an authoritative lecture. "How many times do I have to remind you, Dorrent? You are the chief executive officer of an international conglomerate, not a common street brawler. You should learn to be nice to people when conducting high-level affairs. You must understand that basic diplomacy and strategic courtesy are fundamental to business survival. Being continuously rude, arrogant, and unnecessarily hostile to those who oppose your path will only cause massive, unmanageable trouble for you."

The brutal critique hit Dorrent’s S-tier pride like an electric shock. He snapped his head around, his silver eyes completely swamping with a dangerous, blinding crimson fire as he looked down at his father, his chest heaving with an old, deep-seated resentment.

"I treat those who disrespect my position or threaten my authority with the exact same lethal energy they bring to my doorstep, Father," Dorrent retorted loudly, his voice a deep, vibrating roar. "I am not doing a single damn thing wrong. I refuse to sit at a negotiation table and bow my head to pathetic weaklings who want to see my empire crumble just to maintain your version of ’business courtesy.’ If a man threatens my territory, I crush him. That is how I survive."

"Business is absolutely not conducted in that primitive manner, Dorrent!" Guron fired right back, his voice cutting through his son’s rage with the unyielding force of a judge passing sentence. "A true ruler controls his emotions. He uses leverage, not violence, to manipulate his enemies. Your continuous reliance on brute dominant force is a structural flaw that will eventually tear this family down."

"I have heard that exact same lecture over and over again since the day I took over the boardroom, father!" Dorrent hissed, his knuckles turning white inside his pockets as his winter-frost pheromones violently surged through the room, matching his father’s pressure step for step. "I am already entirely sick and tired of it. Do not stand there and dictate how I wield my power."

Guron’s expression turned utterly cold, his eyes narrowing into calculating slits as he dismissed his son’s emotional outburst. He leaned in. "I do not care about your fatigue, Dorrent. I care about results. I expect you to utilize our entire intelligence network to find out exactly who the culprits behind this ambush are by tomorrow morning. They probably were after you, and not that fragile herbalist. But the reality of this situation is completely disastrous."

The older Alpha turned around, pacing the floorboards with a slow, tense rhythm. "This ridiculous shooting is only delaying your neurological treatment. Jannah Nenth is currently incapacitated, and every single day she spends unconscious in that bed is another day your system remains completely dead. I highly doubt Joanne’s parents are going to wait forever for us to set a wedding date. We have managed to keep your secret of absolute biological impotence hidden from them for three long years, but if a single whisper of your condition reaches their ears before the contracts are finalized, they will break the marriage arrangement without a second thought. And that is the absolute last thing I would ever wish for this empire."

Guron stopped pacing, turning his frame back toward his son. His face settled into a hard, unyielding expression of absolute authority. To him, Joanne was a perfectly classy, high-born beta woman from an exceptionally prominent family—her lineage held the key to the multi-district railway merger that would double the Grefo family fortune. Their personal relationship wasn’t hostile; Joanne was entirely elegant, and Dorrent didn’t have a bad relationship with her on a professional level. But Guron knew the truth—Dorrent had been completely numb to Joanne’s touch for years, his dead biology refusing to command a single drop of arousal for her frame, but what he didn’t know was that his son’s system violently thrived only on the pale slum rat currently bleeding out in the East Wing. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Guron stepped into Dorrent’s personal space, his voice dropping into a low, dictatorial command that brooked absolutely no defiance. "We cannot afford to leave this alliance to chance any longer, Dorrent. Just to securely lock in the upcoming marriage while you undergo this slow treatment with the slum girl, I want you to officially mark Joanne as your mate soon. Give her the identity. Put the mark on her neck so the public knows she is your chosen wife before they suspect a flaw in your biology."

The exact millisecond the command left Guron’s mouth, Dorrent’s corporate mask completely shattered into a million pieces.

An explosive, terrifying shockwave of pure, unhinged S-tier energy violently erupted from Dorrent’s body, completely flattening the air in the library and forcing Guron to brace his weight against the floorboards as the billionaire roared at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the entire mansion like a declaration of absolute war:

"NO!"