Ryan froze, for a moment unable to react. His hands stilled on Zenith’s waist, and his breath caught in his chest. The daze snapped only when a sharp sting spread across his neck. A hiss escaped his lips. His fingers instinctively dug into her waist as the burn of her teeth pressed into his skin. The heat of her breath fanned against him, and for the briefest instant, something primal inside him threatened to break free. Her soft whimper followed, and then her lips brushed the mark she had made —unconscious, desperate and driven by the drug in her system. She didn’t know what she was doing, but her every little movement felt like a silent plea —like she was begging him to ease the torment consuming her. "Zenith!" Ryan’s voice came deep, laced with something dark beneath. But Zenith wasn’t in her senses to understand what that darkness meant. Her glassy eyes pleaded as her voice cracked, "Please ... help me. I am not feeling well. Please ..." Rya’s jaw tightened as the realization struck him hard. He cursed under his breath. "Damn it ..." She clutched his shirt, her nails scraping lightly across his chest, her body trembling but arching towards his warmth. The cold shower pouring over them was doing little to tame the fire burning her up. Her lips brushed against his jaw this time —featherlight, trembling, yet enough to send his control spiralling. Every inch of him screamed to respond to her advances —to claim what she was offering to him so innocently, so desperately. But his mind was roaring in protest. She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t herself. And if he gave in now, he would be no better than the men he had just dragged away from her. Ryan took in a deep breath before his hands moved to grip her by her shoulders, holding her place as she tried to lean into him again. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming harsh and uneven. "Stop," he growled hoarsely, his voice shaking with restraint. "If you don’t, I might not stop myself from doing something for which you might not be able to forgive me. Zenith whimpered again, her lips trembling as though searching for his, her words slurred. "It hurts ... please, make it stop. You said you will ... please." Ryan shut his eyes. His chest rose and fell violently as though he was fighting a war inside. Her tear-streaked face, her fragile body trembling in his arms, grounded him. He could never —would never —take advantage of her. But how could he resist when she was ? It felt like pure agony. His eyes linger on her face before flicking to the blouse that was now sticking to her body like a second skin. His eyes darkened with a primal urge, but he forced it back up to her face, gritting his teeth. His fingers pressed harder into her shoulders, his control hanging by a thread. Finally, he rasped, "You asked for it. Hope, tomorrow morning, when you wake up, you don’t regret it." And with that, he no longer hesitated. Snatching a fresh bathrobe from the shelf, he forced himself into rigid control. He peeled away her soaked clothes quickly but carefully, never letting his eyes linger. His focus stayed sharp, moving with precision, as though any slip would shatter his resolve. When her body was finally freed from the clinging fabric, he wrapped her securely in the soft robe, tying it firmly around her waist. Only then did he exhale — a long, ragged breath. Once she was covered, Ryan scooped her up into his arms again and strode out of the bathroom. His every step was firm, purposeful. Back at the Winslow Residence — After the dinner, Aiden prepared water for Arwen to freshen up. While she went into the bathroom, he picked up his phone to make the call. Dialling Emyr’s number, he waited. And just after the first two rings, the call was answered. "Sir!" Emyr’s voice came through the line. And Aiden’s expression shifted. The same darkness from before returned before he asked without delay. "Did you find out?" Emyr paused for a brief second before replying. "Yes, sir. I have looked into it. The Martins haven’t made any move recently. They have been following your instructions. Even Selene Martin hasn’t been allowed to step out of the Martin family house. She had been confined in the mansion since the day they returned back to New York." Aiden didn’t react to that. He offered Emyr time to finish his words. And when he was done, he asked, "Anything else?" Emyr paused again as though hesitating in speculating on something. "Umm ... I am not sure, Sir. But recently, there had been an evening when Caden Martin had coincidentally met with Dafydd Winslow." The shade of Aiden’s dark eyes shifted, going a shade deeper. It was as though he was waiting to hear this one thing. "But I have checked and rechecked every detail from that evening. That meeting seems to be purely a coincidence —none of the parties planned it." Emyr continued. However, Aiden cut in already with the judgment. "In this world, there is nothing like coincidences. If they met, it meant they intended to meet." "But Sir, —" Follow current novᴇls on 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝘯𝘦𝘵 "Since Caden Martin doesn’t know how to learn advice and suggestions, it seems he would get to learn from sheer consequences," Aiden said, not hesitating even for a fraction of a second. "I want their generation-long legacy in ruins tomorrow." Emyr was taken aback slightly. Though he would never dare disobey, a small suspicion made him hesitate. "But, sir ... what if they weren’t actually involved in Madam’s accident. Wouldn’t that be unfair to them? After all, ..." After all, Aiden had promised to spare them as long as they didn’t dare to make another move against Arwen. "Since when have I ever played fair?" Aiden asked, his voice low and merciless. "The moment they even thought of crossing me, of harming the one woman who means life to me, they sealed this consequence for themselves," He continued, his eyes darkening as his eyes hardened. "And when it comes to her, I will spare no one —not a Winslow, not a Martin." Emyr drew in a quiet breath on the other end of the line. He held no sympathy for the Martins. It was just that he wanted to be sure that he was not giving any misinformation. "Understood, sir. It will be done." Aiden didn’t speak anymore. Hanging up the call, he stared at himself in the mirror. His gaze was hard, and fury was dancing in them. Just then, the door of the bathroom slid open and Arwen stepped out, looking fresh. She paused in her movement the moment she caught sight of Aiden in the mirror. "What happened?" she asked, her brows already wrinkling a little in confusion. "Did something happen?" Aiden looked at her through the reflection of the mirror and smiled as though his previous expression was nothing but an illusion. "Nothing happened," he replied. "I was just checking and felt like I am ageing recently. I need to do something about it. Can’t let you be disappointed." Arwen raised her brow when she heard him and slowly stepped into the room. Keeping the towel on the chair on the side, she walked towards him. Aiden, when he saw her coming his way, turned to face her. Closing up, she let her arms wrap around his neck. "Be reassured," she muttered softly, her voice as tender as it could be, "Your looks can never disappoint me, Ide. If anything, they make me fall for your charms every day for different reasons." Aiden paused, not at her words but at the name she addressed him with. His hands swiftly moved to hold her by her waist before he tugged her closer. "What did you call me just now?" he asked, his eyes restless in studying her, as though trying to find if he had heard her right or it was all an illusion. Arwen stared at him. She didn’t answer him immediately. She just looked at him, trying to read the depth of his desperation. He was on the brink of losing his calm, just at her spell of name. How did he bear it all this while when she hadn’t remembered him ... hadn’t remembered their past. "Moon!" His voice carried a desperate urge. "What did you call me just now? Tell me ... please." Arwen’s gaze never left his face. Looking into his eyes, she let her lips turn up in a tender smile before she called him again. "Ide!" Her voice wasn’t loud, but when she called him that, it was just that name that vibrated in the air. The rest of everything seemed to have fallen silent. His eyes searched for her face, anxious to know something. Something that was confusing him. "How do you come up with this name? Did you ... ?"