The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here

Chapter 2

Word Count: 684 | Released on: Today at 14:40

voice vibrated through the small spe

rdin

deafening roar echoed throughout the warehouse. The helicopter's

ng glass in the high windows shattered inward. Th

curling her body to form a human shield. Sharp stings bit into

m. They moved with lethal precision, night-vision goggles strapped to their helm

r hands, keeping her palms open and visible,

ggers. They stepped aside in perfect u

inding moonlight shone on the edges of his specially made leather shoes

med to drop ten degrees. His dark eyes swept over the unconscious

eathy gasp. He scrambled out from under her and ran on unsteady

r-gloved hand resting on Leo's back. He patted the boy twice

ed to Serena. The scrutiny was absolut

her hands slightly. "I woke up tie

his chin up a fraction of an

aries lung

ging the first man's grasping hands. She grabbed the wrist of the second mercen

ine surprise cros

wheelchair, moved like lightning, closing the distance in an instant. He feinted past her defenses, and

erena's eyes. Nausea surged up her throat. Her kn

down at her face, his nose wrinkling in disgust at

Make sure she doesn't wake up before we reach the estate," he

sness slowly clawed its way back. The dull ache in her neck pulsed with every heartbea

lickering glow of a marble fireplace. She was lying on

ce-cold weight shifted under th

She kept her breathing shallow and slowly pinched the

Chapter End

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The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here

Elizabeth Modern

“Serena woke up tied to a rusted iron chair in an abandoned warehouse, her mind completely wiped clean except for her name. A foul-smelling thug walked in with a bloodstained baseball bat, ready to torture her and the kidnapped five-year-old boy strapped to the chair next to hers. But before his blow could land, a terrifying muscle memory hijacked her body. She effortlessly dislocated her own wrist to escape the military-grade knots, broke his nose, and crushed his windpipe with textbook tactical precision. When the boy's father, the ruthless Wall Street tyrant Silas Sterling, stormed in with his mercenaries, he threw a background check in her face. He accused her of being the mastermind-an eighteen-year-old trailer park delinquent with a history of petty vandalism. He sneered at her cheap clothes and smeared makeup, certain she was just greedy street trash. But a cheap delinquent wouldn't know Pentagon-level psychological de-escalation protocols to calm his traumatized son. And a street rat certainly wouldn't possess the alien medical technology and surgical skills to bring his grandmother back from a flatline brain death. Every instinct in Serena's body screamed that this identity was a hastily forged trap, but she had no memory of her past. She tossed the fake file back onto his mahogany desk and signed his hundred-million-dollar contract. "Enroll me in the prep school from this fake file. I am going to find out who I actually am."”