The bodyguard's voice was surprisingly gentle—almost unsettlingly soft.

If it weren't for the gun pressed against my lower back, I'd have thought he was a total gentleman. That voice alone—smooth enough to drown in—could fool anyone.

I raised both hands above my shoulders in surrender and nodded obediently at the man.

"Okay."

I did what I was told, pulled open the car door, and climbed in. The freezing wind got shut out instantly, replaced by the cozy blast of warm air from the vents.

I brushed a bit of snow off my shoulders, then pulled the door closed behind me.

The backseat was wrapped in high-end calfskin—top-tier luxury, buttery soft. It should've been ridiculously comfortable.

But I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails.

I straightened my posture, trying to look less panicked, rubbed my hands together, forced a smile, and greeted Mr. Hunter carefully.

"Mr. Hunter... what a coincidence, fancy running into you again."

"Not a coincidence," he said. "I've been waiting for you."

My heart skipped a beat.

His deep-set eyes dropped briefly to my hands.

Then, without a word, he pressed something warm and fluffy into my palms.

A hand warmer—pure white, soft, and cozy.

It was... cute.

I glanced down at the fuzzy little thing, then looked over at Mr. Hunter again.

This man—ruthless, violent, and cold—used this kind of adorable little gadget?

Now that was unexpected.

"Thank you, Mr. Hunter. Uh... I’ll take it then."

I clutched the warmer to my chest and instinctively edged a little closer to the door. Was he about to kill me and toss my body somewhere?

The warmth I'd just started to feel drained away in a second. I scooted farther from him, suspicious and tense.

"You said... you were waiting for me?"

"Mhm." He gave a soft, indifferent reply, offering no further explanation.

Suddenly, the air in the car felt heavy—too heavy.

My hand inched toward the door handle, mind racing—should I jump out and run?

His eyes flicked to my hand, gripping the handle like it was a lifeline. My knuckles had gone white from the pressure.

Mr. Hunter offered a faint smile—barely there—and said calmly, "This car's going over 120. If you jump now, the impact'll split your skull open. Instant death."

He said it so casually, like he was commenting on the weather. Cold. Unbothered. Just stating facts.

My gut clenched. The tiny hope I had of escape vanished.

"Heh..."

I let out a dry laugh and slowly let go of the handle, clutching the fuzzy white warmer tighter like it could somehow protect me.

"I was just... checking the door. Safety check, you know? Gotta make sure it's shut."

The second those words left my mouth, I noticed we'd turned off Citrus Street and were headed east.

That wasn't the way back to the Manor.

My whole body tensed up. Alarms started blaring in my head.

I didn't have the luxury of playing nice anymore—not with the kind of man sitting next to me.

Leaning forward slightly, I reached out and gave the back of the driver's seat a couple of light taps.

"Hey, um..."

The man behind the wheel turned his head just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his sharp, angular profile and intense gaze.

"Name's Jace. The guy next to me is Calvin," he said, short and to the point.

"Oh, Jace-y?"

I tried to lighten the mood, throwing in a nickname.

"Just Jace," he corrected, his tone flat and emotionless.

"Alright, Jace." I rolled with it. "So, are you guys taking me home?"

I pointed to the right.

"My place is at Modi Manor. We're heading the wrong way."

Jace didn't react at all. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, and he didn't even glance in the direction I was pointing.

Calvin, in the passenger seat, turned with interest and said, "I thought you lived in Eastbrook?"

"What? No way."

I shook my head immediately, catching a quick glimpse of Mr. Hunter from the corner of my eye. Then I forced a smile and tried to keep my voice light and casual.

"Eastbrook's a mess. Terrible security, full of squatters and sketchy people. I'd never live in a place like that. I'm from Modi Manor. Got it? Modi."

I stressed the last word and looked toward the driver again.

"Jace, mind flipping a U-turn at the next light? I'd like to go home."

Jace looked into the rearview mirror, clearly waiting for a signal from the real one in charge.

Kai remained silent. His face was unreadable, offering no response.

That was all Jace needed.

He jerked the wheel, and the high-performance SUV swung in a clean arc, gliding smoothly into the opposite lane.

As the car started heading the right way, I let out a quiet breath, tension easing just a bit in my chest.

That's when the man beside me let out a low chuckle.

"Heh..."

Mr. Hunter turned his head slightly, his deep-set eyes shadowed with something unreadable as he stared at my still-nervous face.

A crooked, almost sinister smile tugged at his thin, sharp lips.

"Well, look at you. Barely five minutes in and already bossing around my guys?"

His dragged out the words, light and slow, but there was something sharp underneath them.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up instantly.

Swallowing hard, I forced down the fear rising in my chest and met his eyes—those eyes that seemed to see right through me. I put on my best innocent, harmless smile.

"You waited here for me, didn't you, Mr. Hunter? Must've been worried. I mean, it's late, and I'm just a girl standing alone on the street... you stayed to make sure I got home safe, right?"

"Of course."

He didn't even deny it. That actually threw me a little.

But the very next second, his gaze swept over me from head to toe, like a scanner mapping every inch.

"I am curious, though."

He leaned in just a little. The already cramped space between us suddenly felt suffocating.

The cool scent of cologne mixed with a faint trace of tobacco, invading my senses.

"Modi Manor's one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city. So tell me... why does a girl from a place like that have to sing and pour drinks at a club like The Sapphire to make ends meet?"

His tone was laced with a teasing edge.

"Uh... it's temporary. Just a short stay."

I quickly lowered my head, dodging his piercing gaze. My fingers twisted nervously at the hem of my shirt, and a touch of embarrassed blush crept across my cheeks.

"That's my uncle's place. I just turned eighteen, trying to be independent, you know..."

I glanced up at him, then dropped my eyes again.

"Can't just freeload off family forever, right? That'd make me look super immature."

"Fair point."

Mr. Hunter gave a slight, noncommittal nod, but his eyes remained fixed on my face, filled with a quiet, probing intensity.

In the reflection of his pupils, I saw myself—smiling, trying so hard to please him.

When I smiled, my eyes curved into small crescent moons. I always tried to make them sparkle, to look harmless and sweet.

He was watching me way too closely, like he wanted to see past the thick, exaggerated makeup I'd put on and figure out what I really look like underneath.

My long hair, thick and loosely curled at the ends, spilled messily over my shoulders. Maybe it reminded him of the porcelain dolls you see in antique shop windows.

His gaze drifted slowly from my eyebrows, to the bridge of my nose, and finally landed—lingering—on my lips.

There was something in his eyes. Deep, bottomless, like a frozen lake in midwinter. And yet, at the corners of his mouth, a faint, unreadable smile hovered.

"When we get to Modi Manor, I want to see you walk through that front door myself." he said at last. His voice was low, firm—an order, not a suggestion.

"Otherwise, you come with me."

He paused. Each word hit like ice chips.

"No problem!"

I agreed instantly, my tone bright and cheerful—almost too cheerful, like he had just offered me a ride to the mall instead of issuing a veiled threat.

Oddly enough, his words eased something in me. If he insisted on watching me go in, that meant I could prove I wasn't lying. That was fine by me.

I leaned back slightly, hugging the hand warmer in my lap, trying to appear more relaxed, more at ease.

"Mr. Hunter, you're so thoughtful. That's really sweet of you." I said, laying it on just enough to sound sincere.

I threw in a light compliment, tone easy and casual. "Honestly, it's not uncommon. Some of the other big-shot bosses at the club offer me rides home too—like Luca~."

I stretched out the last word on purpose, pretending it was a throwaway name, while watching him closely from the corner of my eye.

And sure enough, as soon as the word "Luca" hit the air, the look in his eyes shifted—cold and sharp now, no more teasing.

"You and Luca..."

He turned his head, the sharp line of his jaw tightening as he asked, slowly and deliberately, "What exactly is your relationship?"