Ana's eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming. She instinctively pressed her hand to her ribs, expecting to feel warm flesh dripping in blood, but instead, her skin was tightly bandaged. Someone had already patched her up.
She frowned, confused and disoriented, before she noticed the figure sitting atop some crates in the distance.
The tiger. He sat calmly, smoking a cigarette, golden eyes piercing through the smoke as he watched the chaos around them. The flames in the sky, the burning men, and yet he seemed completely unbothered.
She grunted, attempting to sit up. Weakness had settled deep in her bones. She groaned in frustration, and at the sound, the tiger's gaze shifted toward her. His eyes locked with hers, and his voice followed, low and rumbling.
"You awake?"
The way he spoke made her chest tighten, the sound almost vibrating through her. But it was more than his voice—his presence was like a weight pressing down on her, reminding her of everything she had done.
She could still hear the memories echoing in her head—the countless innocent lives taken on orders from the boss she had killed. All those years wasted, playing sniper for him. And then, without a second thought, he had turned on her. No guilt. No hesitation. He agreed shot her without mercy.
Her blood boiled at the memory. She wanted to tear her head apart, but instead, the words came out in a broken whisper.
"Why didn't you let me die?"
Her chest felt tight with anger and helplessness. Thirty-six attempts to end him—yet he spared her. Why?
"Why didn't you just let me rot?" she cried out, her voice cracking.
His expression remained unreadable, stoic, as he stood and walked toward her. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze.
"You're not dead yet, Lion," he said, voice cold and commanding. "Those thirty-six attempts...you owe me for that."
His words dripped with dark amusement as his deep voice settled in her chest.
"You seriously aren't going to ask for debt from those... failed attempts, are you?" Ana's voice wavered in confusion, her gaze flicking from the tiger to his unreadable face.
The tiger's golden eyes remained cold, his voice steady and commanding. "Lion... you're trapped in this game. You're serving me everything you owe."
His words dropped like stones, and Ana felt a shiver crawl down her spine. There was no warmth in his tone, no sympathy—just the chilling finality of what he was saying. It was a truth she didn't want to hear, but one she couldn't escape.
Before she could respond, the tension between them was shattered by the sound of footsteps. The tiger's gaze shifted in annoyance, clearly irritated by the interruption.
Out of the shadows, a familiar figure appeared. It was Daemon. he walked in tailored expensive clothes
"Princess!" he called out, his voice pretending concern. "I was worried when I heard you got shot by his antics." Daemon swatted the tiger's hand from Ana's chin, pushing it away with an almost exaggerated gesture. The tiger's eyes narrowed, his annoyance growing at Daemon's intrusion.
Daemon was the son of the mob boss—the man who had betrayed Ana so thoroughly. Daemon, though, had been her childhood friend. At least, that's how it had started. As they grew older, his behavior had twisted into something possessive and suffocating. It was like he could never let her go, and it unsettled her more now than ever.
She couldn't argue with him in one fact, though. Not now. Not when she understood the truth about Daemon—about why he hated his father so much. The hatred wasn't just because of rebellion. It was personal. It was deep. Daemon's hatred for the man who had betrayed her ran much deeper than Ana had ever realized.
And now, standing in front of her, Daemon seemed almost as dangerous as the father he despised. his possessiveness, the suffocating feeling of obsess. even if it's not the same. it felt dangerous.
It felt like Ana was caught between two predators fighting over their prey. The tension in the air was thick, the silent struggle for control palpable.
The tiger, Sylas, broke the silence with a smug tone. "I am Aldrelean Sylas, milady." He took her hand and lifted it to his face, kneeling before her in a deliberate show of dominance.
Daemon's face drained of color, his eyes wide with shock. "You're not choosing her, Sylas!?" His voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and rage.
Sylas ignored him completely, his gaze locked on Ana. "I demand your hand in marriage to fulfill your debt."
Daemon's anger flared, but Ana remained still, caught in the middle of their silent battle. Sylas had made his claim.