Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I pressed my lips together.
Violated.
I felt violated.
My lungs seized, my chest locked tight as if invisible chains had wrapped around me, holding me hostage in my own body.
He knew I had the guns the whole time. Fuck. He would have been ready.
My heart slammed against my ribcage, desperate to escape, to run, to do something—but all I could do was stand there, helpless under his hands.
He pulled the guns from my pockets.
The smirk on his lips deepened.
“Leo.” My voice trembled. “Please, give them back. I feel safe with the guns on me—”
“Shh. I’m here. Later, Lei will be next to you too. You will be safe.”
“Still, there’s no need for me to not have them—”
“No one will have weapons at this battle besides Lei and me. Also, we wouldn’t want any accidents tonight, would we?” He turned the guns over in his hands, inspecting them like a prize as my heart shattered in my chest.
He knew the whole fucking time. Goddamn sicko.
My desperate attempt to level the playing field had been nothing but a child’s game to him.
The hope I’d clung to—that small, fragile sliver—crumbled into dust.
He set the guns on the bed.
I tried one last time. “I’m your little monster.”
He looked up at me.
“You don’t trust me, when you created me?”
“I don’t because now I’m starting to understand that I did too good of a job of making you into a monster. Tell me this.” He leaned his head to the side. “Were you going to use these bullets on me?”
I gritted my teeth.
“Then, no I don’t trust you. And by the way. . .” He slipped his gaze across my body. “You shouldn’t trust me either.”
His words were a blade, slicing through the last of my defenses.
“That’s enough.” Song’s voice shattered the moment like glass.
Leo stepped back just enough to give me space to move but his eyes stayed on me, pinning me in place. “Are you ready now, Mountain Mistress?”
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to tear the guns off the bed and point them straight at his smug, untouchable face.
But I didn’t.
Because in that moment, I knew that Leo had already won this round.
He had stripped me bare, violated my last shred of control, and left me shaking.
Song was still watching him with a mixture of anger and disgust, his fists clenched like he was seconds away from throwing a punch. “We don’t have time for your games, brother.”
Leo turned slowly toward him. “My games are what built this empire, Song. Don’t forget that.”
Song didn’t back down. “And they’ll be the death of you.”
“Perhaps.” Leo chuckled and turned back to me. “Shall we?”
I had no choice.
I forced my trembling legs to move and slipped my arm onto his.
The guns sat there on the bed, gleaming like fallen promises.
As Leo led me out of the tent, his chuckle echoed in my ears—low, cruel, and victorious.
“My smart little monster.” he murmured under his breath.
In that moment, I hated him more than I ever thought possible.
Chapter twenty-two
The Breaking Point
Lei
By daylight, the Sapphire Sanctum stood as a marvel—a jewel carved into the heart of Mount Utopia itself—but as night draped its shroud, it morphed into something otherworldly, like a vision conjured from myth and shadow, a place where power and beauty intertwined in a mesmerizing embrace.
Tonight, the pavilion stretched wide, its vast openness cradled by the mountain’s jagged edges, which loomed like a crown of gods piercing the star-sprinkled sky.
The air was crisp and sharp, mingling with the aroma of burning incense.
The pillars—each carved from lapis lazuli, sculpted and burnished to glimmering perfection—stood as silent sentinels reaching upward like towering giants. Their deep veins of cobalt, sapphire, and cerulean merged into complete artistry.
Silk banners in shades of blue—midnight, royal, and pale—fluttered gently on the wind.
The indigo chandeliers above us were masterpieces unto themselves—suspended high on silver poles that anchored their brilliance against the dark night. They were massive, intricate arrangements of crystals, hanging like sacred relics.
So flawless.
Below, the floor was a polished mosaic—thousands of azure tiles inlaid with veins of silver and turquoise.
My father had made sure the splendor of the pavilion was even more breathtaking tonight.
This was to be a feast for the senses that left no detail untouched.
Above the vast pavilion, the orchestra played. Their notes floated through the space with haunting precision and filled every corner.
All around, there were tables sprawled in endless rows, laden with an opulence that teetered on excess.
Each table had platters of lacquered roast duck with golden skins glistening like molten honey, sitting beside steaming baskets of dumplings.
Silver trays of whole fish lay poised with glistening scales.
Large bowls were full of noodles piled high and slicked with fragrant oils, while towers of sweet buns, sugar-dusted and gleaming, stood proudly next to them.
The wine flowed like rivers, poured by silent, blue-clad waiters wearing blue silk gloves, weaving between guests, and bearing trays of rare delicacies.