Dorrent and Shadron had only just stepped back inside the halls of the estate. Having rushed straight from the hospital and the slums, they had barely taken a few minutes to wash the sweat and dirt from their bodies. Dorrent had only just stepped out of a hurried shower, his skin still damp and his dark hair uncombed, dripping small drops of water onto his bare shoulders. He didn’t even bother to button his dark shirt completely, throwing it on in a frantic rush as his mind replayed the chilling words of the old Mafia boss over and over again. Jannah was dying, and the ticking clock in his head was driving him completely insane.

Down below in the grand foyer, Shadron was tying the belt of his robe when he heard a heavy, thundering sound echo from the upper floor. He looked up just in time to see Dorrent practically throwing himself down the grand staircase, his shoes pounding against the steps with a reckless, dangerous speed.

"Dorrent! Stop right there!" Shadron shouted, his voice echoing loudly off the high walls as he lunged forward, throwing his body in front of the bottom step to block his friend’s path. He planted his hands firmly on Dorrent’s shoulders, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Where the hell do you think you are going in such a panicked hurry?!"

"Get out of my way, Shadron!" Dorrent roared, a deep, animalistic growl ripping straight from his chest as he tried to shove his friend aside. His silver eyes were completely bloodshot, filled with an unhinged, wild fire that made his dominant presence explode through the hallway like a physical weight. "I am going to see that damn old bastard Bellero right now! He has the cure, and I am going to tear it out of his hands!"

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Shadron barked back, refusing to budge an inch as he locked his fingers into the fabric of Dorrent’s unbuttoned shirt, using every ounce of his own Alpha strength to hold the giant tycoon back. "You cannot go to the Boren stronghold alone! That is a total suicide trap! Stop this absolute madness before you get yourself killed! Unless you want exactly what happened nine years ago to repeat itself in this city!"

Shadron’s face went pale as a dark, terrifying memory flashed behind his eyes. He gripped Dorrent’s shoulders even tighter, his voice shaking with dread. "Have you forgotten your own history, Dorrent? If that old Mafia devil provokes you or pushes your system over the edge while you are trapped in his territory, you might lose your mind completely! You could undergo that horrific black cycle rut all over again! You know what happens when your S-tier blood goes dark—you won’t be able to control the slaughter!"

"Then it will only be for the best!" Dorrent screamed back, his voice a deafening boom. He grabbed Shadron’s wrists with a crushing force, his jaw clenching. "If I experience the black cycle rut inside his gates, then so be it! I will gladly let the darkness take over my mind and kill every single living man in that pathetic Mafia empire! I will paint their entire compound red if it means I get that antidote!"

Shadron stared at his best friend in horror, realizing that Dorrent was completely beyond the reach of normal logic. He had never seen the cold, calculating billionaire look so utterly feral, so deeply desperate for the survival of a single human life.

"Calm down for one second and think, Dorrent!" Shadron pleaded, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he struggled against the tycoon’s immense leverage. "What the hell does Bellero actually want from you? What did he say?!"

"To go seem him alone, of course," Dorrent hissed, his silver eyes swamping with a chilling, murderous void. "He knows he has me cornered."

"And you are just going to blindly walk into his jaws?!" Shadron countered sharply, his voice dropping into a tense, desperate line. "What if that old monster is completely bluffing just to get your attention? What if he doesn’t even have the actual cure, and he’s only using her sickness to lure you away from your fortress? You know exactly what kind of man Bellero Boren is—that Mafia God is the most dangerous, underhanded snake in this city!"

"Then I would like to see exactly how dangerous he can be when I am the one snapping his neck," Dorrent rumbled, his voice dropping into a flat, freezing rasp that carried the absolute finality of an executioner. He wrenched Shadron’s hands off his shirt, stepping past him toward the heavy front doors of the mansion.

"This is not a damn joke, Dorrent!" Shadron yelled, spinning around and lunging after him, grabbing his arm once more to halt his massive strides. "Stop acting like a reckless child! You are putting your entire life, your wealth, and your empire in absolute danger for a girl you barely know! You are willing to die for her!"

"I am willing to do absolutely anything on this earth as long as Jannah lives!" Dorrent roared back, turning his head to glare at his friend with an intensity that could freeze water. "I don’t care about the company, the danger, and my own life right now! She is not going to die!"

Shadron let go of his arm, stepping back a slow inch as a profound realization finally settled into his mind. He looked at Dorrent’s frantic, sweat-coated chest and the territorial madness vibrating through his S-tier body. The pieces of the puzzle simply did not add up. A billionaire did not risk total destruction for a simple servant who cleaned his rooms.

"There is something you are not telling me, Dorrent," Shadron whispered, his voice full of a deep, intense gravity as he stared into his friend’s eyes. "There is a secret you are keeping from me about a simple housemaid. Jannah must hold some great importance to your existence... something far deeper than just her being some beautiful girl from the slums that you like to fuck."

Shadron took a step closer, his expression shifting into a look of loyalty. "Look at me, Dorrent. We have been friends for many, many years. We have fought through the corporate wars and the district cleanups together since we were young. You need to trust me right now and tell me the truth. Who the hell is Jannah to you? Why does her survival control your mind? Tell me the truth, and I swear to God I will find a way to help you bring her back without you dying alone in that fortress."

Dorrent stood completely frozen near the threshold, his chest plate heaving as he stared at the only friend who had ever stayed by his side through his darkest years. His mind was a chaotic, burning vortex. For five long, torturous years, he had carried a shameful, pathetic secret that had rotted his S-tier pride to dust. He had hidden his ultimate weakness from the board of directors, from the public, and even from Shadron—the embarrassing, crushing reality of his impotence. He had been a magnificent, empty shadow of an Alpha, unable to feel like a real man with any elite beauty queen.

Until Jannah Nenth had entered his bedroom.

The agonizing pressure of her impending death, mixed with Shadron’s relentless questioning, finally shattered the last remnants of Dorrent’s restraint. The dam broke completely inside his soul, and his pride exploded into a desperate cry of truth.

"Because she is the only damn woman on this entire planet that can actually get my dick hard!" Dorrent shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing like a thunderclap through the empty grand hall.

Shadron froze instantly, his jaw dropping open in shock as his brain short-circuited from the unbelievable confession. He blinked dumbly, staring at the towering, furious billionaire as if he were looking at a complete stranger.

"What... what the hell do you mean by that?!" Shadron asked, his voice cracking into a stunned whimper.