Round Two

If Donovan and Liora were forming their bond, far away from Valtham, tucked deep within the thick woods owned by the Sinclair family, fate had woven a different thread for Pearl and Caspian.

In the very heart of that secluded forest stood a lavish farmhouse, its age disguised by the quiet luxury it contained.

Caspian completely failed to keep his own promise of keeping Liora in his possession. The mission his grandfather had forced him into now took priority over Liora. 

The early morning sun slipped through the gaps in the tall trees, bathing the farmhouse in a serene golden light. It fell into the room where Pearl and Caspian lay entwined. Birds chirped gently in the distance, and leaves danced beneath the touch of a passing breeze, but within the master bedroom, there was no such stillness.

The sheets twisted around their limbs as Pearl lay beneath Caspian, their bare skin pressed together, slick with sweat and heat. His lips were at her throat, then down her shoulder, trailing slow, reverent kisses. She gasped—her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, desperate to keep him close. Her spine arched, every nerve lit like kindling beneath the friction of his body against hers.

His hands roamed her body as if searching for something he had lost, and in the silence between their breaths, their sighs spoke more than any words could. His name left her lips in a soft moan, surrendering to him, and their hunger intertwined like two snakes coiling together in the heat of the moment.

The sun climbed higher, painting their skin in liquid gold. Each movement was unrushed and unhurried. The bed creaked beneath their passion—slow, languid, like the rolling waves of a quiet tide.

Eventually, their breathing slowed, and they became tangled in one another's warmth. Caspian brushed the damp strands of hair from her face, pressing a kiss to her temple.

No servants were allowed to disturb them or come near their room until 9 a.m. This was their morning schedule every day. Their mornings had become rituals. Slow-burning, addictive rituals.

But their morning wasn't over yet. With a low groan, he slipped his arms under her and lifted her effortlessly into his embrace. She let out a sleepy giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her across the room.

The bathroom was already warm. The steam was curling gracefully against the glass from the running shower, misting the air. Caspian stepped inside, still holding her close, letting the hot water cascade over their skin. He gracefully let pearl stand on her feet.

They stood under the water spray, and their hands found each other again, sliding over wet skin, exploring, and teasing each other. Caspian's hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, and Pearl let out a soft moan, her body responding to his touch as if it had its own mind.

"Round two?" he whispered against her ear before biting her ear, which Pearl loved.

"I am up for round four too, Cas," she murmured back, pressing her lips to his.

He responded without hesitation, lifting her slightly, biting her lips to let it bleed before turning her toward the steamed glass wall. Her palms braced against it as the water cascaded down their bodies. The heat from the shower paled in comparison to the fire between them. His hands moved over her hips, anchoring her, guiding her closer until they were one again.

Pearl's moans echoed in the fogged bathroom, swallowed by the sound of falling water and the rapid beat of her own heart. Her breath fogged up the glass, and the pace quickened with raw desire, claiming her relentlessly.

Pearl's palms and upper bosoms pressed flat against the steamy glass as Caspian moved behind her, going deeper. But even as Pearl moaned his name, her voice dissolving into the echo of water, Caspian's thoughts were slipping elsewhere.

His hand trailed upward, slowly, fingers gliding along the dip of her spine, tracing the slick curve until they reached the nape of her neck. The movement was tender, almost reverent—but not for Pearl. In his mind, she was gone. He saw Liora—her light brown hair clinging to her damp shoulders, her skin the colour of soft ivory and silk under the touch. The body beneath his transformed into the woman he craved, the girl who had no idea how deeply he had carved her into his veins.

Pearl's moan grew louder with every breath, but Caspian barely heard it. His hips met hers in deliberate strokes, each movement rougher than the last, chasing not release—but possession. It was Liora he was taking in his mind. Liora, whose skin burned beneath his touch. It's her voice he wanted to hear moaning screaming into his name. It had always been hers. No matter who lay beneath him, Liora was the ghost behind his desire, the fire beneath his obsession.

A dark fire burned inside him—a twisted hunger sharpened now that Liora was in Valtham. So close to him. He gripped Pearl harder, losing himself in the rhythm.

He would have her. He would make Liora his in every possible way. Not just in his mind. But in reality.

By the time they stepped out of the shower, skin flushed and breathless, the room was filled with steam and a contented silence. Wrapped in towels, their gazes met—eyes still heavy with satisfaction—and they shared a private smile that only lovers could understand.

Later, they sat across from each other at the farmhouse table. A shared plate of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, thick slices of bread, and two steaming cups of coffee bridged the distance between them.

Pearl tilted her head slightly, her fingers playing with her spoon. "I hope you are not bored here, Cas."

He gave her a half-smile. "With how you keep me busy? Hardly."

Pearl's expression softened, but a hint of insecurity peeked through her eyes. "You know… if you ever feel like going back, I won't stop you. I can handle things here alone."

It was a lie. She had no intention of letting him go. If Caspian left now, everything she worked for—all her careful efforts to claim his attention, his loyalty, his heart would collapse. She needed him close. She needed him tied to her.

Pearl was taken to the woods to escape from society. The Sinclairs were heavily involved in politics, and they couldn't allow anyone to discover Pearl's struggle with drug addiction. It would tarnish their image. They couldn't have any unresolved issues. Their reputation and their influence over the government were paramount above all else.

Caspian picked up his coffee cup and took a slow sip before he set it back down on the saucer and leaned slightly backwards.

"I am just afraid your parents will send another emergency call to drag me back into your drama," he said dryly, arching a brow.

Pearl gave him a look, about to respond, but paused when he added with a softer tone, "But if it's up to me… I would rather be here than out there without you. You matter more than the rest of it."

Her eyes lit up, pleased—but Caspian oversaw her.

He knew what she was doing. The manipulation was too blatant. She intentionally overdosed herself at her residence, something she had never done previously. She would never use drugs at home. Even when she did consume drugs, it would be at his place rather than hers. This is why her family was unaware of her drug use. She wanted a space with no distractions, no outside world, just the two of them, simply because she had supported a girl in the parking lot. She wanted to own him.

But what she didn't know was that Caspian Glacier had been playing games long before she learned how to lie with a smile. And in this game, he never lost. He owns people, not the other way around. With time, Pearl will know her place. He will make her accept Liora. Caspian thought to himself.

"It's time for therapy. Shall we?" Caspian set down his fork and knife, dabbed his lips with a cloth, and placed it on the table before standing up, the chair scraping back against the floor.

Pearl forced Caspian to join her, and it was almost as if she believed he needed the healing just as much as she did. Caspian engaged in the sessions and activities with quiet endurance. He had to prepare for the meeting with Pearl's grandfather. The long-awaited encounter between Pearl's grandfather and his own is overdue, and he is eager for it to conclude so he can fully concentrate on Liora.

'I hope grandfather read my message and keep an eye on Liora.'

Under the guidance of the healing practitioner, Pearl and Caspian began their session of inner self-reflection. They concentrated on their breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling steadily as the therapist led them into a state of silence.

Afterwards, they moved on to an exercise focused on visualization. With healer's soothing words, she encouraged them to conjure calming, joyful scenes, allowing the images to fill their minds to sooth their mind and heart.

However, today, Caspian's thoughts drifted to Liora. The healer's voice did not reach his ears, and instead of the peace the exercise was meant to foster, Liora's image filled his mind with swirling anxiety as he envisioned her on the campus, standing alone between strangers, especially men.

He needed Pearl to recover sooner. It was not for her sake but so he could finally leave this suffocating place. 

It's been months without hearing Liora's voice or seeing her face, which started frustrating him. It was a punishment he didn't deserve. 

How could Liora not have met him when she joined the university, and she expected him to tolerate this? He was Caspian, after all—nobody kept him waiting.

He didn't even have a proper picture of her—of her blooming youth—just a secondhand image Amara had shared with him once. In it, Liora wasn't even looking at the camera, her gaze fixed on her mother, hidden behind those dark sunglasses. 

She was playing games with him. Caspian could feel his irritation simmering. His thoughts turned into a chaotic mess of possessiveness and frustration. 

'You better not make me angry, Liora. You better behave in my absence and not let yourself be influenced by any other man,' he thought bitterly with his closed eyes, his jaw clenching at the idea of her slipping away from his hold.

Caspian could not stay still, and the moment he opened his eyes, he found himself locked in the healer's gaze, which bore intently into him. She remained unwavering, not blinking or shifting her gaze as if silently conveying a hint that demanded his attention.

A calculated smile spread across Caspian's face as he met her eyes. He gave her a genuine smile before closing his eyes again, pretending to focus on the session. He knew exactly what she wanted, and the knowledge amused him. 

But now wasn't the time. He had no desire to entertain her, not when Pearl's recovery was still incomplete. Besides, having the healer meet a tragic end before she served her purpose wouldn't help him.

While distant threads were drawing Donovan and Liora closer in Valtham City, and Pearl clung harder to Caspian in the deep forest, a darker tale unfurled in the very heart of Avalon City—one cloaked in shadow and rot.

In the late afternoon, inside the Gambino office—a lavish, marble-floored building laced with velvet curtains and gold accents.

Marco Gambino (Tony Gambino's third son) sat at his desk, one leg resting over the other, his fingers absently spinning a gold pen between them. The moment his phone vibrated, he snatched it up without hesitation.

"Yes, David?" he said coolly.

"Boss, each one of us keeping an eye on them. Tomorrow's operation can move forward without delay." David's voice crackled through the line. "But there's something else you might want to hear this."

Marco's brows lifted as he waited for David, the man handling the current project, to hear more information.

"Five of the targets are sitting together at a cafe—same block, same table. It's like a gift wrapped for us. If you allow it...We can collect them today."

A grin tugged at the corners of Marco's mouth. "What are the chances... All five in one place?"

These were the women among other women whom Tony was looking for. The one who destroyed his web crime.

"And boss..." David paused, lowering his voice, "if we grab them today, the boys were hoping to—well—have a little fun first. Before delivering them to the warehouse. We will keep them breathing."

A low chuckle rumbled from Marco's chest. "Go on then. Just make sure they are still able to scream when Father begins his questioning."

"Thank you, boss. You are the best." And the call ended.

Across the room, Daniella Gambino (Tony's daughter) leaned back in her chair, one stiletto heel propped on the desk edge, phone in one hand, fingers typing rapidly on her laptop with the other.

"You sure know how to keep your men loyal," she said without looking up. "Give them a leash and a little blood—and they will die for you."

Marco smirked. "Loyalty comes at a price. But sometimes...a few perks make the wolves howl louder."

Daniella snorted, flipping through screens on her monitor. "Dogs, you all are."

She opened Instagram, then TikTok, then Facebook. One by one, she pulled up the profiles of their targets. Geotags, stories, comments, status updates—smiling faces laughing over food and beverages, unaware they were already marked.

"You would think people would be more careful, but it's the opposite," she murmured, eyes gleaming. "They post their daily lives for the world to see. The time, location and their outfit. Some even change their outfit in front of the camera." Daniella laughed loudly. "Even who they are with. Makes tracking them easier than ordering takeout."

She looked up with a grin. "God bless social media. Stupidity's best invention."

Marco chuckled, pouring himself a drink. "It's not stupidity, sister. It's a money-making business. It's a soft porn media. They want the world to watch them...admire their beauty, their body, and we are just part of the audience."

Daniella raised her glass of wine. "To the fools who laid their life out to the world for predators like us to get to them easily." And they laughed together.