The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here

Chapter 4

Word Count: 799 | Released on: Today at 14:40

the joystick of his wheelchair. The motors whined as the cha

as she sprinted after him. The instinct to protect the b

frame blocking the doorway. He rea

t her pass," he barked, his

ed of the wheelchair as they navigated the labyrinth of the est

ide, the room was a war zone. Expensive wooden toys were smashed aga

"hehh-hehh" sound c

hogany wardrobe. His small hands were trembling viole

Thin red lines of blood marked their forearms where t

and watched everything unfold. He clenche

commanded. His voice was the same cold, authori

ss scream of pure terror. He slashed the blade wildly th

an, giving a subtle nod. Ian signaled two guards wear

n front of the guards, us

yes were freezing. "Your military-style barking is

mperature in the room plummeted. "Do not t

her back on the most dangerous man in New

e floor, crossing her legs, sitting directly beneath the wardrobe. She rested her hand

an to speak. Her voice was low, rhyt

ry dark box. The box shook, and it was loud.

r voice steady, creating a monotonous hu

It couldn't bite. It couldn

r the edge of the wardrobe, his tear-filled

vering, offering no judgment, no comma

he only sound in the r

r cutter blade dropped onto the thick

wardrobe. His movements were jerky, l

touched the floor, S

est. He wrapped his arms around her neck in a death grip and buried hi

round him, rubbing his ba

ing emotions raged in his dark eyes. Shock. Relief. And a dark, twis

ng Leo effortlessly. S

ective aura. In that moment, she looked like a queen defending h

d slightly. For the first time in years, he felt 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."”