The room fell into a suffocating silence as Daniel Blackwood straightened, the corner of his mouth curving into a deceptively lazy smile.
He tilted his head, voice smooth like velvet over steel.
"Won't you welcome me, gentlemen?"
A slight pause, deliberate.
"Hiding like mice while you dare play in my city..."
Without waiting for permission, Daniel stepped forward — owning the space, every movement effortless yet commanding.
The men instinctively shifted, creating a path without realizing it, their postures stiff with unease.
The thick scent of cigars and whiskey clung to the air, but it couldn't mask the crackle of power that followed him like a storm cloud.
Daniel moved with a regal lethality — a king among fools — his tailored black suit sharp enough to cut the very tension he created.
At his side, Leah barely masked her grimace, her plan unraveling by the second.
And yet... part of her was relieved. With Daniel here, she could maneuver closer to her real target.
As he approached the central leather sofa, Daniel's arm tightened slightly around Leah's waist, drawing her in with a possessiveness that made her skin hum.
Reaching the seat, he sank down lazily — lounging like it was his personal throne — then, with calculated ease, pulled Leah onto his lap.
"Never knew you had such fantasy "he murmured near her ear looking down at outfit , low enough that only she could hear.
"Relax, little fox. Try to act like you enjoy sitting on your king's lap."
Leah leaned back just enough to hiss under her breath, voice dry as sandpaper:
"Touch me again and I'll break that royal ego of yours, Blackwood."
Daniel chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that made a few nearby men exchange wary glances.
Markov's narrowed eyes missed none of it.
A sycophantic man from across the room quickly stood up, fake laughter bursting out.
"Mr. Blackwood! If we'd known you were in town, we would have sent an official invitation!" he gushed, desperate to patch the growing tension.
Daniel didn't even bother to look at him.
His attention was entirely — deliberately — centered on Leah, tracing an invisible pattern across the back of her hand with maddening slowness.
The atmosphere was growing colder by the second.
And then, Markov spoke.
His voice was slick with amusement — but his eyes gleamed with something sharper.
"You seem quite taken with that girl, Mr. Blackwood," he said.
"When you're done with her... send her my way. I'd love to have a turn."
The words sliced through the room like a blade.
Leah's heart slammed once in her chest, though her face remained calm.
Every muscle in her body tensed, fighting the instinct to reach for the knife hidden at her thigh.
Daniel's smile didn't falter.
If anything, it sharpened — turning predatory.
He leaned back in his seat, one hand lazily draped around Leah's waist, the other tapping a slow rhythm against the leather.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft — almost bored.
"Somethings," Daniel said, each word coated in frost, "arenotmeanttobesharedwithvermin."
The room went utterly still.
Markov's expression twitched.
On the other side
Not getting response from Leah , stefan and other team members were getting anxious .
---
Leah barely masked her stiffened posture when she felt the faint brush of breath against her neck.
"Need some help" Daniel's voice was a silk-wrapped blade.
Before she could react, he leaned in further — casual to everyone else's eyes, but deliberate for her — and whispered, low enough only she could hear:
"Let's give them a real surprise."
Straightening, Daniel met Markov's narrowed eyes and smirked.
Markov's jaw twitched, the fake smile barely concealing the storm brewing inside him.
"Sit still, darling," he murmured for her ears alone.
"You'll ruin my reputation if you keep squirming like that."
Leah leaned closer, her own smile mocking.
"Touch me again without permission," she whispered sweetly, "and I'll leave you missing a hand."
Daniel's grin widened, entirely unbothered.
Across the room, Markov's men watched with hawk-like tension.
---
Meanwhile: Outside the VIP Hall
Team T, disguised among the 'tourists' and 'staff,' moved carefully through the luxurious corridors of the Avelaine Resort.
Stefan's earpiece crackled.
"Something's wrong," Elara whispered.
"There's too many guards near the south exit. Heavy military boots. No way they're tourists."
David flexed his gloved hand.
"Let's clean the trash," he said, smirking.
In the shadows, swift and brutal — Team T neutralized two of Markov's sentries without a single gunshot.
A quick, silent operation — bodies hidden behind curtains, radios smashed.
Kessa surveyed the surroundings grimly.
"Markov's stacking the deck," she muttered.
"He's not just hosting a party. He's ready for blood."
Back inside
As the laughter resumed — forced and uneasy — Markov casually tapped two fingers against his chair arm.
A hidden signal.
From the far end of the room, in the shadows behind the velvet curtains, a figure shifted — unseen by Leah, unseen by most.
Eyes gleamed in the dark.
Watching Leah.
Waiting.
And the hunt had just begun.