Chapter 2

The towering luxury high-rise building housing Nightfall Lounge stood in the most bustling upscale downtown district of West City, its entire exterior wrapped in dazzling endless neon light strips that flickered hypnotic red, royal purple and glittering gold even beneath the heavy pouring rain. The luxurious revolving glass door spun endlessly at the entrance, flinging cascading rainwater into a perfect fan-shaped spray every time it rotated smoothly. Gorgeous lounge hostesses dressed in high-slit custom silk evening gowns stood lined up neatly at the entrance, their makeup heavy and seductive, their eyes sharp, cold and judgmental as they sized up every guest passing through the door with practiced professionalism and hidden arrogance.

When Kane stepped inside the grand lobby, his military overcoat covered in slum mud, his leather boots splattered with filthy muck, the hostesses’ delicate painted lips curled into undisguised disdain, contempt and quiet mockery. They whispered sneering remarks behind their gloved hands, looking down on this rough unpolished man who seemed completely out of place in the lounge’s extravagant indulgent atmosphere of wealth, luxury and debauchery.

In the spacious grand lobby, soft Italian leather luxury sofas lined every wall, expensive designer silk scarves casually draped over polished leather shoes of wealthy VIP guests, half-empty bottles of premium Hennessy, vintage whiskey and rare red wine scattered carelessly across the glass coffee tables. The thick stagnant air reeked of overpowering cheap floral perfume, strong expensive liquor, thick cigar smoke, and the faint stench of hidden sin, lust and moral corruption, churning Kane’s stomach with overwhelming revulsion and cold disgust.

A sudden sharp crash of shattered crystal glass echoed loudly from the second-floor corridor, followed immediately by a woman’s shrill terrified scream that cut sharply through the lounge’s lazy background jazz music. Kane’s deep blue eyes turned icy cold in an instant, his overwhelming killing aura forged on a hundred brutal battlefields silently spreading outward in invisible waves, making the nearby waiters, bartenders and ordinary guests shrink back involuntarily in unexplained cold fear and unease.

He stormed up the carpeted staircase in long quick strides, the thick wool carpet completely muffling the heavy sound of his military boots. Flickering neon strip lights along the dim quiet hallway walls cast eerie shifting red and purple shadows across his hardened emotionless face. Pink hazy light seeped out through the narrow crack of the innermost private suite door at the very end of the corridor, accompanied by coarse lewd male laughter, vulgar teasing remarks, and the faint sound of a woman struggling weakly in vain against overwhelming force.

“Come on, beautiful Elara! Boss Rook personally gifted you a priceless diamond necklace—put it on nicely and let us all admire your stunning charm!” A rough arrogant male voice boomed loudly from inside the suite, laced with greedy lust, domineering arrogance and the casual cruelty of a man used to getting whatever he wanted with money and power.

Kane did not hesitate for a single second. He kicked the heavy solid wooden suite door open with one brutal powerful blow, the door slamming violently against the wall with a deafening bang that shook the entire corridor. The shocking scene that unfolded before his eyes turned his blood ice cold in his veins, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles creaked with suppressed rage.

Elara was pinned ruthlessly down onto the cold marble coffee table, her slender delicate body helpless beneath the brute’s overwhelming strength. Her elegant backless camisole evening dress had been torn wide open down the spine, revealing her fair flawless skin stained with spilled red wine and rough greedy handprints. The delicate rose tattoo etched permanently into her lower back was smudged dark red by wine and cold sweat, looking exactly like a fragile blooming rose cruelly crushed under a violent brute’s boot. A bald muscular thug with a savage scarred face gripped her long chestnut hair roughly in his fist, yanking her head back painfully until her neck arched, while his other hand roamed greedily and shamelessly over her chest without any restraint, mercy or basic human decency.

“Kane?” Elara snapped her head around in utter shock and panicked disbelief, her perfectly applied lipstick smudged messily across her pale trembling cheeks, her beautiful eyes wide with shock, burning shame and unbearable heart-wrenching pain. Her red-painted fingernails dug deep into the solid tablecloth, her knuckles white and trembling with suppressed humiliation, sorrow and helpless rage. “Get out of here right now! Don’t look at me like this! Leave me alone and forget I ever existed!”

The bald brute spat disdainfully on the expensive imported carpet, a cruel sneer twisting his ugly scarred face. He flicked open a sharp spring-loaded switchblade with a cold metallic click, slamming the polished blade down hard onto the tabletop inches from Elara’s face. The steel blade glinted with savage malice under the flickering neon lights, reflecting his greedy violent eyes filled with contempt.

“Where did this clueless stray dog come from? Daring to barge in uninvited and meddle in Boss Rook’s private business in his own exclusive lounge? Do you have any idea who you’re offending, punk? I’ll break every bone in your body before you can blink!”

Kane never spared the arrogant brute a single glance, his entire gaze locked firmly onto the fresh dark purple bruise wrapped tightly around Elara’s collarbone. The mark was raw, swollen and ugly, shaped like a twisted brutal bite stamp left by someone’s rough hungry teeth—nothing like the gentle tender love marks he had once left on her soft skin in their happy peaceful youth. A strange scorching heat surged rapidly up his spine, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily as he held his breath unconsciously, a storm of chaotic rage, heartache, bitter jealousy and twisted possessiveness raging uncontrollably inside his broad chest.

“Leave.” He uttered only one icy low word, his deep voice carrying the overwhelming pressure of a supreme warlord who commanded ten thousand elite warriors. The cuffs of his military jacket fluttered slightly without any wind at all, a faint invisible aura of killing intent sweeping across the entire suite, making the air turn cold and suffocating.

The bald brute tensed up instantly, ready to lunge forward and beat Kane to the ground in a brutal brawl, but before he could even move a single muscle, his wrist twisted violently at an inhuman grotesque angle no normal human bone could bend. A sickening crunch of splintered bone exploded sharply through the silent suite, echoing off the decorated walls. The brute let out a deafening agonizing howl of pain, clutching his broken limp wrist and collapsing onto the carpeted floor in convulsions, tears of agony streaming down his scarred face as he rolled around helplessly.

Kane had already stepped calmly in front of Elara in one smooth effortless motion, his cold fingertips gently brushing over a faded circular cigarette burn scar on her back. The scar was pale pink, its edges rough and uneven, branded deep into her soft flesh by a lit cigarette pressed down with deliberate cruel force. Every fresh bruise, every old scar, every mark left by violence and humiliation on her skin stabbed into Kane’s heart like a sharp cold blade twisting deeper with every second.

“Lila is waiting for you at home,” he said in a steady emotionless tone, hiding his inner turmoil and heartache behind an icy calm warlord facade. His sharp cold eyes swept coldly over a black lace undergarment discarded carelessly on the luxury sofa beside them—an item that clearly did not belong to him, a silent undeniable proof of her fallen humiliating life trapped in this den of sin and lust. The sight stabbed sharply into his temples, making his head throb violently with suppressed rage and bitter jealousy he could not fully contain.

Elara suddenly grabbed a heavy thick glass ashtray from the marble table and smashed it violently against her own forehead without a single moment of hesitation. A deafening bang rang out across the suite, sharp crystal glass shards spraying everywhere across the table, carpet and floor. Bright red blood streamed down her brow instantly, flowing into her tear-filled eyes, blurring her vision completely into a haze of red and tears.

“I won’t go back to that broken home!” she roared hoarsely, blood mixing with bitter tears flooding into her trembling mouth. “I’m nothing but a degraded plaything for rich lecherous men now! Look at me clearly, Kane! I’m filthy, ruined, stained beyond redemption! I don’t deserve your forgiveness, don’t deserve to be a mother to our innocent little Lila anymore!”

She tore open the neckline of her torn dress recklessly, exposing dark purple hickeys and rough bite marks scattered all over her chest and pale shoulders. “All these shameful marks are left by those cruel greedy lounge guests! I’m tainted forever! Just leave me here to rot in this neon hell where I belong!”

Kane reached out instantly to catch her swaying collapsing body before she crashed onto the hard table, holding her fragile trembling frame tightly in his strong protective arms. The sharp pungent scent of strange men’s expensive cologne clung thickly to her hair and skin—a fragrance that should have ignited explosive berserk fury in his soul, yet instead made his heart hammer wildly in his chest, burning with a chaotic untamable fire of twisted possession, lingering longing and conflicting heartache. He stared silently at her torn dress hem, his Adam’s apple rolling heavily as he whispered in a low hoarse voice that only she could hear, “We will talk about everything properly when we get home.”

He carried her gently in his arms down the grand curved staircase, every step slow, heavy and deliberate. The lounge hostesses and wealthy VIP guests stared at them with piercing judgmental gazes, their eyes burning into his back like sharp needles filled with mockery, curiosity and quiet disdain. Elara’s sharp fingernails dug deep into the hard muscle of his military shoulder, fresh blood seeping slowly into the worn fabric of his coat, merging perfectly with the old faded battle scars he had earned on countless Northern Frontier battlefields.

The rain still poured relentlessly outside the lounge entrance, cold raindrops splashing across Elara’s pale tear-streaked face, making it completely impossible to tell where the cold rain ended and her bitter endless tears began. Her once pure bright life had fallen deep into the mud, trapped forever beneath the flickering neon lights and sinful indulgence of Nightfall Lounge—and Kane Voss, the invincible Dragon Lord General, had finally returned to drag her back by force, whether she wanted to come with him or not.