She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

The black sedan cut through the darkness of the estate road.

Alex gripped the wheel, his body humming with a deep, bruised ache… the kind that came from pushing past limits.

Today had been a milestone.

For the first time, he hadn’t just survived against Pavel; he had competed.

Thirty minutes.

He had lasted thirty grueling minutes of high-speed, full-contact sparring before Pavel finally swept his legs and pinned him.

Thirty minutes against a veteran killer… a personal record… but the System was still mocking him.

[BATTLE SENSE: 2.93%]

“Two point nine-three,” Alex muttered, a sharp puff of frustration escaping his lips. “I pushed myself until I was vomiting bile, and I didn’t even crack three percent.”

“Don’t be greedy,” Lilith’s voice slithered through his thoughts. “You’ve nearly tripled your intuition in two days. You’re moving faster. Thinking sharper. That’s enough for now.”

Alex flexed his fingers. She was right. He felt different. He felt… dangerous.

“I wanted to hit three percent before I went back,” he said, eyes narrowing as the gates of the estate appeared. “But it seems…”

“It seems your pets couldn’t wait that long,” Lilith mused in his mind.

He smirked.

Vivienne.

She had called him barely an hour ago, her voice trembling with a hunger she couldn’t hide. She told him flat out that they couldn’t wait until Sunday. That they had already prepared his “gift” in advance.

As if on cue, the phone on the dashboard lit up with her name again, the message beneath it desperate and short:

’We are ready. Please… just come.’

“Desperate,” Alex chuckled darkly. “They’re starving.”

He had left them wrecked, humiliated, and filled with his seed. He had told them to wait until Sunday. But they had cracked a day early.

The dependency numbers weren’t just statistics. They were a leash. And Vivienne had just tugged on it, begging to be choked.

“They better have Jennifer there,” Alex whispered, the amusement fading into something colder. “Because if I walk through those doors and find out they dragged me here early for nothing but their own itch…”

His grip tightened on the wheel, the leather creaking.

“They’re going to see the beast inside of me.”

He rounded the final bend toward Villa Six.

Suddenly, movement.

The heavy oak door of the villa was slammed shut with a violent, resounding crash.

THUD.

The sound echoed down the driveway, shattering the silence of the night.

A figure burst out from the porch, sprinting down the steps in heels, stumbling, desperate.

Alex slowed the car, his eyes locking onto her instantly.

Blonde hair. Pale face. Mouth open in a silent scream of frustration. Tears glistening on her cheeks.

She didn’t look toward Alex’s approaching car. She was focused entirely on the silver Porsche parked at the edge of the driveway, facing away from him.

“Jennifer,” Alex murmured, slowing the sedan.

She ripped the Porsche’s door open and threw herself inside. A second later, the engine roared to life with a violent, guttural scream. The car launched forward, tires spitting gravel as she sped frantically down the driveway.

“Running away?”

For a moment, disappointment washed over him.

He thought of Vivienne. Did she fail? Had the “Iron Queen” rushed the plan? Had she tried to spring the trap too early and scared the prey off?

’Rookie mistake,’ Alex thought, irritation spiking. ’How disappointing. I gave them a simple task.’

If Jennifer was gone, the night was a waste. And if the night was a waste, Vivienne was going to pay for it.

But then, the Porsche’s brake lights flared red.

The car skidded to a halt about a hundred meters down the road. It didn’t turn around. It didn’t keep going. It just sat there, idling in the middle of the lane, red taillights bleeding into the night mist.

Alex watched the lights. He analyzed the behavior. A fleeing victim doesn’t stop. A fleeing victim runs until the horizon swallows them. Stopping meant conflict. It meant she was fighting her own narrative.

“She’s not leaving,” Alex realized, a cruel smile touching his lips. “She’s simmering.”

Lilith chuckled in his mind. “She’s standing on the edge of the abyss, Alex. All she needs is a reason to jump.”

“Let her watch,” Alex decided.

He eased the sedan forward, forcing her to watch as he drove right up to the villa’s circular driveway, parking his car directly in the center of the drive… a dominant, immovable block of black steel.

Alex killed the engine.

A heavy, expectant silence returned to the valley, save for the faint, rhythmic pulse of the Porsche idling a hundred meters down the road.

Its taillights glowed in the distance, a pair of angry red eyes bleeding into the mist. She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t turned around. She was just sitting there, burning fuel, caught between running and returning.

Alex stepped out into the cool night air. He didn’t rush. He took his time adjusting his cuffs and smoothing the lapels of his jacket, perfectly aware of the audience behind him.

He felt the weight of her gaze. He knew she was watching him through her rearview mirror… pale, furious, and confused.

He paused by the villa’s stone steps and turned his head slightly, glancing back exactly once. The red glow of her brakes washed over the asphalt, unmoving.

A slow, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s see if you have what it takes to return,” he murmured to the darkness.

He didn’t wait for a reaction. He didn’t care if she fled or followed.

He turned his back on the red glare completely. He walked up the remaining steps with a steady, unhurried gait.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t ring the bell.

He simply reached out to turn the handle, but the heavy oak door swung open before his fingers could even graze the wood.

Warm, amber light spilled out onto the porch. And standing in the center of that glow was Helena.

She was dressed impeccably, the emerald fabric clinging to her frame, but her usual sharp, professional demeanor was gone.

Tonight, she seemed… smaller. Softer.

She stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her head bowed slightly. As Alex stepped into the light, he saw a deep, rose-colored flush staining her neck and rising to her cheeks. She refused to meet his gaze, her eyelashes fluttering nervously against her skin as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Sir,” she murmured, her voice soft and trembling. She stepped aside, keeping her eyes fixed on his chest. “Mrs. Vivienne is waiting for you…”

Alex stopped.

He didn’t walk past her. He stood right in the threshold, invading her personal space, close enough to smell the jasmine perfume and the sharp, sweet scent of her arousal.

He smiled… a slow, wolfish curve of his lips… watching the way she shivered just from his proximity.

“Only your Mrs. is waiting?” Alex asked softly, the question hanging in the cool night air.

“What about you?”