## 📖 Chapter 3: The CEO of the Underworld
The Obsidian Tower skyscraper split the clouds above the city's weeping night. On its top floor, hidden from the frenzy of mortal life below, stood a luxurious penthouse that served as the command center for the largest underground crime syndicate in the country.
Black marble floors reflected the light from hanging crystal chandeliers. Panoramic glass walls displayed a view of the metropolitan city that seemed to kneel beneath the feet of its occupant.
In the center of the room sat Bastian Hanggara.
The man was the perfect embodiment of a devil in a perfectly tailored suit. His face was carved with a sharp jawline, his black hair slicked neatly back, and his dark eyes fixed on everything with the piercing gaze of a predator calculating its prey. In his hand, a crystal tumbler filled with expensive bourbon turned slowly, the clinking ice breaking the silence of the room.
The private elevator doors opened with a soft chime. The two black-suited guards standing at the sides of the room immediately straightened, their hands poised near their holsters.
But the only one who stepped out of the elevator was a slender figure, soaked to the bone.
Elara.
Her black tactical gear was torn at the sleeve, dripping water mixed with blood onto Bastian's expensive marble floor. Her face was pale, but her chin was raised defiantly. She had never bowed her head, not even before a king of the underworld.
Bastian lifted one hand, giving a wordless signal. The two burly guards immediately nodded and retreated, leaving the room with only Bastian and Elara inside.
### The Possessive Golden Cage
Bastian set his glass on the mahogany table, then stood. His strides were long, slow, and deliberate as he approached Elara. The man's nose wrinkled slightly as he caught the scent rising from the girl's body.
“Rain, sewer stink, and... blood,” Bastian murmured, his voice deep and even, yet carrying an invisible threat. He stopped directly in front of Elara, his eyes dropping to the rough stitches on her arm. “You stitched it yourself again. I told you, I have the most expensive doctor in this city. He can stitch you up without leaving a scar.”
“I didn't have time for your doctor, Bastian. The wound was contaminated with silver,” Elara replied coldly, trying to hide the pain still throbbing through every nerve.
Bastian's eyes sharpened at the word “silver.” He extended a hand wrapped in a thin leather glove, touched Elara's chin, and forced her to look up. Elara tensed. The wolf within snarled at the touch of this human, but Elara restrained her instinct. Bastian was the man who had saved her from starving on the streets three years ago. She owed him her life.
“Who did this?” Bastian asked. His voice dropped an octave, cold as ice. “I sent you to sabotage the weapons supply route at the northern border, not hunt those forest dogs.”
“Your intelligence was wrong,” Elara shot back, staring straight into Bastian's dark eyes. “That route wasn't guarded by humans. It was Blackwood Pack territory. Their border guards intercepted me.”
Elara swallowed, holding back the most important information. She did not mention her encounter with the Alpha. She did not mention her Mate. Telling a possessive man like Bastian would be the same as starting World War III.
Bastian studied Elara's face intently, his thumb slowly caressing the girl's jawline in a gesture far too intimate. “Is that so? Just ordinary border guards managed to injure my best assassin?”
“They used a net and a silver dagger. I let my guard down,” Elara lied smoothly.
### The City's Ruler's Claim
Bastian smiled crookedly, a smile that never reached his eyes. He released Elara's chin and turned toward his private bar, pouring himself another glass of bourbon.
“Those mutated dogs are getting far too bold, coming out of their forest,” Bastian muttered, more to himself. He turned toward Elara and held out the glass. “Drink. It'll dull the pain.”
Elara accepted it and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol's heat burned down her throat, slightly distracting her from the pain in her arm.
“Sit on the sofa. My doctor is on his way up,” Bastian ordered flatly.
As Elara walked to the leather sofa and sat down stiffly, Bastian crossed to his enormous glass window and stared at the glittering city drenched in rain.
“You know, Elara...” Bastian's voice cut through the patter of rain striking the glass. “In my world of business, when someone damages something that belongs to me, I don't just demand compensation. I destroy all their assets until they have nowhere left to turn.”
Bastian turned, his possessive gaze making the hairs on the girl's neck rise.
“You are mine, Elara. The deadliest jewel in my kingdom. No one is allowed to spill your blood but me.” Bastian approached, bending until his face was level with Elara's, and whispered words that sounded like a bloody promise. “I'll find out which wolf scratched your skin tonight, and I'll turn its pelt into a doormat for your front door.”
Elara fell silent. Outside, lightning split the night sky. For a moment, instead of feeling safe under the protection of the mafia boss before her, the image that flashed through Elara's mind was a pair of golden-red eyes glowing through the forest mist. Eyes radiating an ancient obsession far more terrifying than any firearm in the world.