Marvel 196

Emma paced the length of the room after Max left, the sound of her heels echoing like soft drumbeats against the marble. Her fingers brushed lightly over her wrist again, almost disbelieving that the suppression mark was truly gone. She was free — and it was because of him.

But why?

Emma Frost trusted no one easily, especially not charming rogues with easy smiles and hidden motives.

She stopped at the window, looking out over the city. Lights sparkled in the distance like cold stars. Somewhere out there, Max was moving — dangerous, unpredictable, and very much her problem now.

A slow smile curved her lips.

Or perhaps… her opportunity.

She pressed a button on a sleek intercom."Bring me the dossier on Crestfield," she said. "And find Max Ryder. Discreetly. I want eyes on him at all times."

There was a slight crackle of acknowledgment, and she clicked the intercom off.

If Max thought she would just fall into his orbit because he played the hero, he had a lot to learn. If he wanted to prove himself, he would have to earn it.

Later that night...

Max was leaning against the hood of his car, watching the skyline when he felt a familiar buzz at the edge of his mind — a psychic touch, soft but deliberate. He grinned to himself.

A moment later, his phone vibrated. A message. No name attached, just an address and two words:

Prove yourself.

Max chuckled low in his throat."Testing me already, Frost? Cute."

He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. As the car roared to life, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement.

Emma Frost wasn't just a prize to win — she was a force to be reckoned with. And if she wanted to play games?

He was all in.

Max followed the cryptic address deep into the city's underbelly. The streets here were narrower, older — the kind of place where streetlights barely worked and shadows ruled. He parked a block away and moved on foot, keeping his senses sharp.

Ahead, standing alone under a flickering streetlamp, was Emma Frost.

She looked completely at ease in the gloom, her pale hair almost glowing against the dark backdrop. She wore a white fitted coat that swept to her calves, the collar turned up against the chill.

Max approached slowly, hands casually in his jacket pockets.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Didn't expect the White Queen herself to come greet me."

Emma didn't smile. She simply turned on her heel, her voice cool but commanding.

"Follow me. And don't speak unless I say so."

Max raised a brow but said nothing, falling into step behind her.

She led him down a side alley, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the cracked pavement. Then she stopped in front of a rusted service entrance — a steel door with no markings.

Without a word, Emma pressed her hand against a seemingly blank spot on the wall. There was a soft hiss, and the door slid open silently, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling downward into darkness.

She looked back at him, her blue eyes glinting.

"Coming?"

Max smirked. "Ladies first," he said with a slight bow.

Emma didn't wait for him. She descended gracefully, not even glancing back to see if he followed. Max sighed, shook his head, and trailed after her.

The air grew cooler as they went down, the walls shifting from rough concrete to smooth, polished marble. The staircase ended at another door — this one black, carved with a faint crest: a chess piece, the king and queen entwined in battle.

Emma placed her hand on it. Again, a hidden mechanism clicked, and the door swung inward.

Max's eyes widened slightly.

The hidden quarters of the Hellfire Club stretched before him — opulent, secret, and utterly untouched by the decay above. Crystal chandeliers threw fractured light across rich velvet drapes and dark wood. Gilded mirrors lined the walls, and an unmistakable air of power hung in the atmosphere.

Emma finally turned to face him.

"This," she said, her voice low and serious, "is where the real game is played."

Max stepped forward, slow and deliberate, taking it all in.

"And what exactly am I here for, Emma?" he asked.

Emma's lips curved into a small, dangerous smile.

"You want my trust. My favor. Maybe more." She let her gaze linger on him just long enough to make his heart kick against his ribs. "Then you'll have to prove you're worthy — not just of me, but of the Hellfire Club itself."

Max grinned, a sharp and hungry expression.

"Now this sounds like my kind of party."

Emma stepped closer, so close he could smell her perfume — something sharp and clean, like winter air.

"Be careful what you wish for, Max," she whispered. "You might just get it."

Before Max could answer, heavy footsteps echoed from deeper within the chamber. He turned slightly, his senses sharpening.

Out of the shimmering corridors emerged a group of individuals — powerful presences wrapped in luxury and menace. Each of them bore the mark of authority: sharp suits, elegant gowns, eyes that had seen too much and cared too little.

Emma stood tall and composed as they approached, her voice calm but resonant.

"Max Ryder," she said, her gaze flickering sideways at him, "allow me to introduce you to the Inner Circle."

The group fanned out around them. A man in a blood-red suit with a cruel smile. A woman draped in black silk, her eyes like twin daggers. Another man, older but imposing, his silver hair slicked back into a perfect wave.

Emma continued, her tone sharp as a blade, "This is Sebastian Shaw, Selene, and Harry Leland. Each of them commands a different aspect of the Club's power."

Sebastian Shaw, tall and broad, stepped forward first, looking Max up and down with a mix of amusement and calculation.

"So this is the stray you've dragged in, Emma?" His voice was rich with condescension.

Emma's lips curved into a faint, icy smile.

"He comes highly recommended," she said smoothly. "By me."

***

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