The private island lay in dead silence, save for the crashing of waves against the jagged rocks below the cliff—each impact a thunderous roar that echoed through the empty night, as if the ocean itself was growling in anger. Bathed in the pale glow of the full moon, the black mansion loomed like an impenetrable fortress atop the hill, its windows dark and unyielding, no flicker of light to hint at the life inside. It was a place of isolation, of control, of secrets—and for Katherine Wei, it was a cage. A gilded cage, perhaps, with silk sheets and marble floors, but a cage all the same, wrapped around her neck in the form of a cold, black electronic collar.
The grand hallway was empty, the only sound the faint patter of Katherine's bare feet sinking into the thick black carpet as Stevens, the mansion's stoic butler, led her toward Liam Qiu's bedroom. The carpet muffled her steps, making her feel like a ghost—fitting, she thought, for someone who was supposed to be dead. Three years ago, she had died as the Black Phoenix, the deadliest assassin of the Lock Organization. Now, she was reborn as Katherine Wei, a blind, fragile orphan, sold to the man she had once tried to kill. The irony tasted like ash in her mouth.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, each beat deafening, threatening to burst through her chest. She kept her head bowed low, letting her long black hair fall over most of her face, a curtain to hide the sharp, murderous glint in her eyes that she fought with every fiber of her being to suppress. The electronic collar around her neck felt like a noose—cold, heavy, pressed tight against her skin, its metal surface digging into her flesh with every breath. It was a reminder, a brand: she was his property. His toy. His prisoner. And if she dared to forget that, the collar would remind her—in the most painful way possible.
Stevens stopped before a pair of massive oak doors, their surface carved with intricate patterns of dragons and phoenixes—symbols of the Hongmen, the powerful underworld syndicate that ruled the streets of Chinatown and beyond. The doors were identical to those in the study, a silent testament to Liam's obsession with control and order. He rapped his knuckles against the wood once, in a stiff, formal rhythm that brooked no nonsense.
"Mr. Qiu, Miss Wei is here."
A low, husky voice answered from inside, cold enough to send a chill down Katherine's spine, sharp enough to cut through the silence like a blade. "Send her in."
Stevens pushed the door open with a soft creak, stepping aside to let her pass, his face expressionless, his eyes avoiding hers—as if he was afraid to look at the blind girl who had been handed over to his ruthless boss. "Enter, Miss Wei."
Katherine took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of cedar and whiskey, mixed with a faint, metallic trace of blood that made her nostrils flare. She forced her trembling fingers to still, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, and stepped into the room. Her bare feet sank into carpet soft as fresh snow, the fabric swallowing her steps, making her feel even more vulnerable.
The bedroom was enormous, far larger than the study, with a king-size bed at its center, dressed in black silk sheets and draped with black lace curtains that hung like a veil, hiding whatever lay beneath. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting leaping orange flames across the room, painting the walls in dancing shadows that looked like ghosts. The fire brought warmth, but it could not chase away the pervasive chill—the chill that came from the man sitting on the edge of the bed, his presence so overwhelming it felt like a physical weight.
Liam had shed his tailored suit, the one he had worn earlier in the study—sharp, polished, a mask of respectability for the world above ground. Now, he was in his true form: raw, dangerous, unapologetic. He had removed his tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his black dress shirt, revealing a firm, muscular chest, crisscrossed with faint scars—souvenirs of the countless battles he had fought, the lives he had taken.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing tattoos that covered both forearms, each one a story of blood and loyalty. A black dragon coiled around his left arm, its scales viciously detailed, its claws digging into the flesh of his wrist, its head rearing back, the red ink eyes staring straight at her as if alive, as if it could smell the lies on her skin. On his right arm, a single word was etched in bold, jagged black lettering: Loyalty. It was a warning, a promise, a threat—all rolled into one. In Liam Qiu's world, loyalty was the only currency that mattered. And betrayal? Betrayal was punishable by death.
He held the same silver dagger from the study between his fingers, twirling it slowly, the blade catching the firelight and glinting like bloodthirsty ice. The dagger was small, but deadly—sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone with ease. He handled it with the familiarity of someone who had killed with it many times before, his movements fluid, almost casual, as if he was playing with a toy rather than a weapon that had ended countless lives. His dark hair was messy, falling over his forehead, and those bottomless ice-blue eyes scanned her from head to toe, slow and deliberate, like an apex predator sizing up its prey, memorizing every flaw, every weakness, every lie.
Katherine fixed her gaze firmly on the floor, her shoulders slightly hunched, her body swaying just enough to look unsteady, to look blind. She kept her hands clasped nervously in front of her, her fingers twisting together—a perfect picture of a fragile, terrified girl, lost and helpless in a world she could not see.
But beneath the act, her nerves were stretched to breaking point, her mind racing, cataloging every detail, every movement, every scent. She studied his tattoos, the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt, the way he held the dagger, the faint scar on his jawline—all signs of a man who had waded through mountains of corpses, who had crushed throats with his own hands, who had built an empire on blood and fear. She recognized the dragon tattoo at once: it was the mark of the Hongmen's highest ranks, the symbol of a leader, a killer, a king. And the word Loyalty? It was a joke. She had seen too many men like Liam—men who demanded loyalty but gave none in return, men who would cut down their own brothers if it suited their needs.
"Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding, no warmth, no emotion—only pure, unadulterated order. It was the voice of a man who was used to being obeyed, who had never been told no, who would destroy anyone who dared to defy him.
Katherine took tentative steps forward, her feet slightly dragging along the carpet, her body swaying as if she was struggling to find her balance, pretending she had no sense of her surroundings. She deliberately stumbled, her balance faltering, her hands flailing wildly in front of her, as if she was reaching for something to hold onto. Her fingers brushed against the edge of a heavy oak dresser nearby, and she "accidentally" knocked over a small crystal vase, the glass shattering on the floor with a sharp, crisp crash. She let out a small, frightened gasp, pulling her hand back as if burned, her body trembling more violently now.
"I-I'm sorry!" she stammered, her voice cracking with fear. "I didn't mean to—I can't see, I'm so sorry, sir."
Liam watched her every move coldly, the corner of his mouth curling into a cruel, mocking smirk. He did not move to help her, did not even flinch at the sound of the breaking glass. He just sat there, twirling the dagger, his eyes fixed on her, as if he was enjoying the show.
"You're terribly clumsy, Katherine. Or is this just part of your flawless act? A blind girl who just happens to stumble into my bedroom, who just happens to be the sister of the man who sold you to me? Do you think I'm stupid?"
Katherine's shoulders hunched even tighter, her head bowed lower, her hair covering her face completely. She let out a soft, broken sob, her body shaking as if she was about to collapse. "I'm not acting, sir. I really can't see. I… I lost my sight in the car accident that killed my parents. Zane took me in, he's the only family I have. He would never hurt me. He would never sell me."
"Zane Wei," Liam scoffed, the name dripping with contempt. "He doesn't care about you. He sold you to me like a piece of meat, like a weapon to use against me. He would have sold you to the highest bidder, no matter who it was—gangster, criminal, monster. You're just a tool to him. A way to save his own skin. And you're naive enough to believe his lies."
Katherine's body stiffened for a split second, a flash of anger crossing her face before she could hide it. Zane had lied to her—she knew that now. He had told her the Lock Organization was gone, that everyone she had ever known was dead, that he was the only one who could protect her. But deep down, she had always suspected the truth. He had used her, manipulated her, turned her into a weapon once again. And now, she was standing in front of the man she had been sent to kill, playing the part of a helpless blind girl, while Zane watched from the shadows, waiting for her to finish the job.
But she did not let her anger show. She kept crying, her sobs soft and broken, her voice trembling. "No… that's not true. Zane loves me. He's my brother. He would never do that to me."
"Brother," Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound that echoed through the room, sending chills down Katherine's spine. "He's not your brother. He's a liar. A coward. A monster. He's been using you since the day he found you, broken and bloodied, after you failed to kill me three years ago. Do you really think he adopted you out of the goodness of his heart? Or do you think he saw a weapon, a tool he could mold into the perfect assassin?"
Katherine's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. He knew. He knew about the Lock Organization. He knew about her past. He knew she had tried to kill him. But how? Had Zane told him? Or had he been hunting her all this time, piecing together the clues, waiting for her to show her true face?
She forced herself to look confused, to shake her head, her tears falling faster now. "I… I don't understand. What are you talking about? I've never tried to kill anyone. I'm scared of blood. I'm scared of everything. Please… please stop asking me these questions. I don't know what you want from me."
Liam leaned forward, his body tensing, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face, as if he was trying to see through her lies, to find the truth hidden beneath the mask. For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace and the crashing of the waves outside.
Katherine could feel his gaze burning into her, could feel him dissecting every expression, every movement, every breath. She kept her face blank, her eyes staring blankly ahead, refusing to flinch, refusing to give herself away. She had trained for this, had spent years perfecting her act. She would not break now.
Finally, he spoke, his voice softening slightly, but still cold, still dangerous. "Come here. I won't hurt you. Not yet."
Katherine hesitated, then took a few more tentative steps forward, until she stood between his spread legs. The scent of his cologne—cedar and whiskey—washed over her, mixed with the faint, metallic trace of blood that was now stronger, more pervasive. It was a smell she knew all too well, a smell that brought back vivid memories of three years ago: the dark penthouse, the sound of his heartbeat, the feel of the blade in her hand, the warm spray of blood as she drove it into his chest. She had come so close to killing him then, so close to avenging her parents, to freeing herself from the Lock Organization. But she had failed. And now, she was back, trapped in his clutches, forced to play his game.
Suddenly, he reached out, his calloused hand wrapping around her wrist. His grip was brutal, his fingers nearly crushing her bone, the metal of his ring digging into her skin. He yanked her roughly toward him, so close she could feel his hot, heavy breath on her face, could see the flecks of gold in his ice-blue eyes, could smell the blood on his skin.
Katherine bit down hard on the tip of her tongue, the pain keeping her grounded, restraining the assassin's instinct to pull the hidden blade from her hair and slash his throat, to finish what she had started three years ago. She knew she could not win in a fight—not yet. She needed to gain his trust, to find out what he knew, to bide her time until the perfect moment to strike.
"You're beautiful," his rough thumb brushed her cheek, his touch cold and rough, like sandpaper against her soft skin. "Pale skin, full lips… even these blind eyes. Perfect. A perfect toy. One that I can keep all to myself."
Toy. The word pierced her pride like a blade, making her blood boil. She had never been a toy. She was the Black Phoenix, the deadliest assassin in the world, a woman who had killed hundreds of men, who had survived in a world of violence and blood. But she did not show her anger. She kept her face empty, her gaze staring blankly ahead, as if she could not feel his touch, as if his words meant nothing to her. She let her body go limp, letting him hold her, pretending to be afraid, pretending to be helpless.
Liam's hand slid from her jaw to her neck, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the electronic collar. He pressed his thumb against the small silver buckle, the metal digging into her throat, making her gasp for air.
"Do you know what this is?" he murmured, his voice soft as a lover's whisper, but his eyes cold as ice. "It's a collar. A collar for a pet. A reminder that you belong to me now. I own every part of you. Your body. Your mind. Your soul. And if you ever forget that… if you ever try to run, if you ever try to betray me… this collar will send ten thousand volts of electricity through your body. It will hurt. More than you can ever imagine. And if you still don't learn your lesson… it will kill you. Slowly. Painfully."
Katherine's heart raced, fear creeping into her bones—not the fake fear she was pretending to feel, but real fear. She had known the collar was dangerous, but she had not realized it was a death sentence. Zane had told her it was just a tracking device, a way for Liam to keep an eye on her. He had lied to her again.
But she did not let her fear show. She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "N… no, sir. I won't forget. I'll be good. I promise."
"Good," he said, his thumb stroking the collar gently, as if he was caressing a precious possession. "I'm glad you understand. Now, tell me about the scar on your shoulder. The one you tried to hide."
Katherine's body stiffened. She had known this moment would come, had rehearsed the lie a hundred times, but under his piercing stare, it felt like he could see right through her. The scar was a souvenir from three years ago, from the night she had tried to kill him. He had shot her, the bullet grazing her shoulder, leaving a thin, white scar that she had tried to cover with makeup, with clothing, with lies.
"It… it was the car accident," she stammered, her voice trembling. "The glass from the windshield… it cut me. The doctor said it would leave a scar. I'm sorry if it's ugly."
Liam stared at her for a long, cold moment, his eyes narrowing. He did not believe her. She could see it in his eyes, in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his grip on her wrist grew stronger. But he did not press further. Instead, he pulled the strap of her nightgown back up, covering the scar, his fingers brushing against her skin one last time, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Interesting," he said, his voice neutral, but his eyes filled with suspicion. "A puncture wound from a car crash. How convenient. Almost like it was made by a bullet."
Katherine said nothing, just kept her head down, her body trembling, pretending to be afraid, pretending to be confused. She knew he was testing her, knew he was waiting for her to slip up, to give herself away. But she would not. She had come too far, had sacrificed too much, to fail now.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door, followed by a loud, urgent knock.
"Mr. Qiu!" Stevens' voice carried an unusual urgency, a hint of panic that Katherine had never heard before. "Emergency. The Hongmen's warehouse in Chinatown is under attack by the Blood Hand Gang. They've already killed three of our men, and they're burning the place to the ground. The boys need you—now."
Liam froze. The amusement in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a violent, unbridled killing intent that made Katherine's blood run cold. His body tensed, his muscles coiling like a spring, ready to strike. He released her wrist, standing abruptly, the dagger in his hand glinting with deadly intent. He grabbed his black jacket from the chair beside the bed, pulling it on quickly, his movements sharp and urgent. The dragon tattoo on his arm seemed to come alive in the firelight, its red eyes glowing with rage.
"Fix your clothes," he said coldly, not turning around, his voice filled with barely contained anger. "Stay in this room. Don't touch anything. Don't try to leave. If I return and find you've stepped foot outside this door… if I find you've touched anything in this room… you know the consequences. The collar will be the least of your worries."
Katherine nodded, her head still down, her voice barely audible. "Y-yes, sir. I'll stay. I promise."
Liam grabbed the dagger from the bed, tucking it into the waistband of his pants, and strode toward the door. He paused at the threshold, turning back to her, his eyes cold and hard, filled with rage and suspicion.
"Remember, Katherine. You're mine. And I don't share what's mine. Not with anyone. Not even with Zane."
With a loud crash, the oak door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room, making Katherine jump. She collapsed weakly onto the bed, her body shaking, her hands covering her face. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, trying to process what had just happened.
She had survived the first test, but she knew it was only the beginning. Liam was suspicious of her. He knew she was hiding something. He knew about the Lock Organization, about the attempt on his life three years ago. It was only a matter of time before he figured out who she really was—before he realized she was the Black Phoenix, the woman who had tried to kill him.
But she would not wait to be killed. She closed her eyes, and the assassin's instinct awoke in her blood, sharp and clear. She had a mission: kill Liam Qiu. For her parents, who had been killed by the Hongmen, by Liam's men. For the Lock Organization, which had been destroyed by Zane and Liam. For herself, to free herself from the cycle of violence and betrayal. She would not fail this time. She would bide her time, gain his trust, and when the moment was right, she would drive a blade into his heart—just like she had three years ago.
She stood up, her legs still wobbly from the adrenaline, and walked toward the window. She pulled back the black curtains, looking out at the ocean, the moon casting a silver glow over the water, the waves crashing against the rocks below. In the distance, she could see the faint lights of Chinatown, flickering like tiny stars in the night. She knew that Liam was on his way there, that he was going to fight, to kill, to protect his territory. That was his world—violence, blood, power. And soon, she would be part of it. But not as his prisoner. As his equal. As his killer.
She turned away from the window, her eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail. She noticed a safe in the corner of the room, hidden behind a painting of a dragon—likely where Liam kept his most valuable possessions, his most dangerous secrets. She noticed a gun on the dresser, the same one she had brushed against earlier, its metal surface glinting in the firelight. And she noticed a black folder on the nightstand, the label reading "Lock Organization" in bold, black letters.
Her heart skipped a beat. The Lock Organization. Zane had told her it was gone, that everyone associated with it was dead. But Liam had a folder about it. Which meant he knew about it. Which meant he knew about her. Which meant he had been hunting her all this time, waiting for her to show her true face.
She walked toward the nightstand, her bare feet silent on the carpet, and reached out to touch the folder. Her fingers brushed against the cold, hard surface, and she was about to open it when she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door.
Liam was back. Already.
Her heart raced, and she quickly pulled her hand back, sitting down on the bed, resuming her blind-girl posture—head down, shoulders hunched, hands clasped in front of her.
The door opened, and Liam walked in. The first thing Katherine noticed was the smell—thick, coppery blood, so strong it made her stomach churn. He was covered in it, his black shirt soaked dark red, his pants stained with blood, his hands dirty, his face splattered with flecks of blood. The dragon tattoo on his arm was now visible, the red eyes of the dragon seeming to glow in the firelight, as if they were drinking in the blood. He looked like a monster, a man who had just come from a battlefield, who had killed without mercy, who had no regard for human life.
He did not speak at first. He just stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes cold and hard, filled with rage and bloodlust. He stared at her for a long moment, as if he was checking to see if she had obeyed him, if she had stayed in the room. Katherine kept her head down, her body trembling, pretending to be afraid, pretending to be blind, pretending she could not see the blood on his hands, the rage in his eyes.
Finally, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He walked toward her slowly, his steps heavy, the sound of his boots thudding against the carpet, the smell of blood growing stronger with each step. He stopped in front of her, his shadow towering over her small body, casting her in darkness. His blood-stained fingers reached out, brushing against her cheek, the warm, sticky blood leaving a trail on her skin. Katherine fought the urge to flinch, to pull away, to wipe the blood off her face. She kept her body still, her eyes staring blankly ahead, pretending not to feel it.
"Did you stay in the room?" he asked, his voice sharp, his tone filled with barely contained anger. "Did you touch anything?"
Katherine shook her head, her voice trembling. "N-no, sir. I stayed. I didn't touch anything. I promise. I was too scared to move."
Liam stared at her for a long moment, his eyes scanning her face, as if he was trying to catch her in a lie. He leaned forward, his face inches from hers, the smell of blood and whiskey overwhelming her.
"You're lying," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I can see it in your eyes. You touched something. You touched the folder, didn't you?"
Katherine's heart raced, panic flooding her body. How did he know? Had he seen her? Had he set a trap? She forced herself to look confused, to shake her head, her tears falling faster now.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about. I can't see a folder. I didn't touch anything. Please… please believe me. I'm scared."
Liam sneered, pulling his hand back, wiping the blood from his fingers on his shirt. "You're a terrible liar, Katherine. But that's okay. I like a challenge. I like breaking things that think they're strong. And you… you're stronger than you look. I can see it in your eyes. Even when you're pretending to be blind, even when you're shaking with fear, there's something in your eyes. A fire. A darkness. You've killed before, haven't you? You've felt the weight of a blade in your hand, the warmth of blood on your skin. You know what it's like to take a life."
Katherine's blood ran cold. He knew. He knew she was an assassin. He knew she had killed before. But did he know she was the Black Phoenix? Did he know she was the one who had tried to kill him three years ago?
She kept her face blank, her eyes staring blankly ahead, her voice trembling. "I… I've never killed anyone. I'm scared of blood. I'm scared of everything. Please… please stop asking me these questions. I don't know what you want from me."
Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound that echoed through the room. "You're still lying. But that's okay. I'll find out the truth. One way or another. I always do."
He turned away from her, walking toward the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. The sound of running water filled the room, and Katherine took the opportunity to catch her breath, to calm her racing heart. She knew she was running out of time. Liam was closing in on the truth, and once he figured out who she really was, she would die. Slowly. Painfully. But she would not go down without a fight.
Minutes later, the water stopped. Liam stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless, a towel wrapped around his waist. His body was wet, water droplets sliding down his muscular chest, his abs, his legs, washing away some of the blood, but not all. The scars on his body were now visible—old scars, new scars, each one a story of violence and survival. He walked to the nightstand, picking up the black folder, and walked back to her, sitting down on the bed beside her, the folder in his hand.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding up the folder, his voice cold and hard. "This is the classified file on the Lock Organization. A group of assassins. The most dangerous assassins in the world. They've killed hundreds of people—politicians, businessmen, gangsters, anyone who got in their way. And three years ago, one of their assassins tried to kill me. She snuck into my penthouse, knife in hand, and drove it into my chest. She was fast. Faster than anyone I've ever fought. But she made a mistake. She didn't finish the job. And I've been looking for her ever since. Looking for the woman who dared to try to take my life. Looking for the Black Phoenix."
The words exploded like thunder in the room. The air turned to ice. Katherine's body stiffened, her blood running cold, her heart stopping for a split second.
He knew. He knew she was the Black Phoenix. He knew she was the one who had tried to kill him three years ago. All the pieces fell into place: the way he had stared at her, the way he had asked about her scar, the way he had mentioned the Lock Organization. He had been testing her all along, waiting for her to slip up, to give herself away. And now, he had her. Trapped. Defenseless.
She slowly lifted her head. This time, her gaze no longer wandered, no longer remained empty. She met his stare directly, her eyes clear, sharp, filled with a cold, deadly fire that matched his own. The mask was gone. The blind girl was gone. In her place was the Black Phoenix—the deadliest assassin in the world, the woman who had tried to kill him three years ago, the woman who would not go down without a fight.
Liam's lips twitched into a cruel, feverish smile, his eyes lighting up with excitement, with bloodlust. "Finally," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Finally, the Black Phoenix reveals herself. I knew it was you. From the moment you walked into my study, from the moment I saw the way you held yourself, the way you looked at me—I knew it was you. You haven't changed. Not one bit. Still as beautiful. Still as deadly."
He pulled the dagger from his waistband, holding it up, the blade glinting in the firelight, its tip pointing at her heart. "Three years ago, you tried to kill me. You stabbed me in the chest, right through the heart. But I didn't die. I survived. And I've been hunting you ever since. I've been waiting for this moment—waiting to make you pay for what you did. Waiting to make you suffer."
Katherine did not flinch. She did not show fear. She just stared at him, her eyes cold and steady, her voice calm, no trace of the weakness she had been pretending to feel. "You're not going to kill me. Not this time. I'm not the same girl I was three years ago. I'm stronger. Faster. And I'm not going to fail again."
She abruptly tilted her head, her fingers snaking into her thick black hair, pulling out a razor-thin willow-leaf dagger—her signature weapon, the one she had used to kill dozens of men, the one she had used to try to kill him three years ago. The blade was small, but deadly, its edge sharp enough to slice through flesh and bone with ease. She held it up, the tip pointing at his throat, her posture tense, ready to strike.
Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound, his eyes filled with amusement. "You think you can beat me? You think you can kill me? You're delusional. I've been fighting all my life. I've survived in a world of violence and blood. I've killed men stronger than you, faster than you. You're just a girl with a knife. A toy. And I'm going to break you."
He lunged at her like a panther, his massive frame moving with surprising speed, the dagger in his hand aimed straight for her face. The air rushed past her as he moved, the smell of blood and whiskey overwhelming her. But Katherine was faster. She had trained for this moment, had spent years honing her skills, her reflexes, her speed. She tilted her head sharply to the side, the blade grazing her cheek, cutting through the skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
She felt the pain, but she did not stop. She spun around, her body moving in a fluid, graceful motion, and swung her willow-leaf dagger toward his ankle.
"Damn it!" Liam grunted as the blade sliced through his skin, a gash opening on his calf, blood pouring out, soaking his pants. But he did not pause. He did not even flinch. He used his momentum to kick out, his foot aimed at her stomach. Katherine jumped out of the way, landing lightly on the carpet, her dagger still in her hand, her eyes locked on his, never leaving him for a second.
The room erupted into chaos. The sound of metal clashing filled the air as their blades met, each strike powerful, each parry precise. Katherine moved like a shadow, her body light and agile, darting in and out, striking quickly, then pulling back, avoiding his attacks. Liam was stronger, more powerful, but she was faster, more agile, more skilled. She used his size against him, ducking under his arms, sliding past him, striking at his weak points—his knees, his ankles, his shoulders.
Liam grew more and more frustrated, his attacks becoming wilder, more desperate. He swung his dagger with all his strength, the blade cutting through the air, narrowly missing her. He kicked over the dresser, the wood crashing to the floor, sending glass and debris flying. Katherine dodged the debris, her dagger slashing at his arm, drawing another line of blood. He roared in anger, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her toward him, his dagger aimed at her heart.
Katherine twisted her arm, breaking free from his grip, and stabbed her dagger toward his chest, the same spot she had stabbed three years ago. But Liam was ready. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it, forcing her to drop the dagger. It clattered to the floor, landing at his feet. He pulled her closer, his arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her to his chest, the dagger pressed against her throat, the cold metal digging into her skin, drawing blood.
"Game over," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, his voice low and dangerous, filled with triumph. "You lose, Black Phoenix. You failed again. Just like you did three years ago."
Katherine struggled against him, her body writhing, but his grip was too tight, too strong. She could feel the blood dripping down her neck, could feel the cold metal of the dagger against her skin, could feel his hot breath on her ear. She had failed. Again. She had come so close, but she had failed. She closed her eyes, a wave of despair washing over her. She had let her parents down. She had let the Lock Organization down. She had let herself down.
But just as she was about to give up, she felt Liam's hand move to his pocket, his fingers brushing against something small. She opened her eyes, her mind racing, trying to figure out what he was doing. And then, she felt it—a sharp, painful surge of electricity, erupting from the collar around her neck, tearing through her body like a bolt of lightning.
"Ahh—!" she screamed, a piercing, agonizing sound that echoed through the room. The electricity coursed through her veins, her muscles convulsing violently, her body going limp in his arms. She could not move, could not think, could not breathe. The pain was unbearable—worse than anything she had ever felt, worse than being shot, worse than being stabbed. It felt like her body was being torn apart from the inside out, like her bones were breaking, like her skin was on fire.
Liam released her, letting her collapse to the floor, her body still convulsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. He stood over her, the dagger in his hand, his eyes cold and hard, filled with triumph and cruelty. He had won. He had broken her. He had made her pay for what she did three years ago.
He knelt down beside her, his hand brushing her hair away from her face, his thumb wiping the blood from her cheek. "You see?" he whispered, his voice soft, but cold as ice. "You're mine. You've always been mine. And you'll never escape me. Never. Every day, I'm going to remind you of what you did. Every day, I'm going to make you suffer. And you're going to like it. Because you have no choice."
Katherine lay on the floor, her body still trembling, the pain slowly fading, leaving her weak and exhausted. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with rage, with defiance, with hatred. She would not let him win. She would not let him break her. She was the Black Phoenix. And she would have her revenge. No matter how long it took. No matter how much she had to suffer.
Liam stood up, looking down at her, his expression unreadable. "Get up," he said, his voice sharp. "You're going to clean this mess up. And then, you're going to bed. Tomorrow, the game starts again. And this time, you'll learn to obey me. Or you'll die."
Katherine slowly pushed herself up, her legs wobbly, her body weak. She looked at him, her eyes cold and steady, her voice hoarse, but filled with determination. "I'll never obey you," she said. "I'll never be your toy. I'll kill you. I promise you. I'll kill you."
Liam laughed, a cold, harsh sound. "We'll see. I'm looking forward to it."