THE DEVIL'S BROTHER

The Sung Fortress had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

For hours, Ares hadn't spoken a word. Not to Seren. Not to his men. Not even to the AI systems that responded only to his voice. He just stood there in the war room, violet eyes burning, jaw clenched, the weight of unspoken fury leaking from every breath.

The failed assassination attempt had been a message.

But it wasn't just a warning.

It was an invitation.

Somewhere Else in H City — A Ballroom of Shadows

The Crescent Pavilion was once a theater. Now, it was Rael Sung's playground — glass chandeliers, obsidian floors, and walls covered in crimson drapery. The atmosphere pulsed with music and danger.

Influencers, media elites, and foreign investors sipped wine and traded secrets beneath false laughter. They were all invited under the illusion of a fashion-tech launch.

No one knew the real reason they were here.

At the center of it all, lounging like a serpent wrapped in silk, sat Rael Sung.

He was every inch as beautiful as his brother — but opposite in energy. While Ares was a fortress of silence and control, Rael was sunlight soaked in poison. Charming, theatrical, with a face that looked like it had been carved by angels bored of heaven.

Long black hair swept back, green eyes—the only thing that you could use to tell them apart, he was like Ares'—but brighter. Wilder. He wore a deep burgundy suit, no tie, black gloves. Every movement screamed luxury, every smile was a weapon.

When he laughed, people leaned closer.

When he stared, they stepped back.

And now, as his assistant whispered in his ear, his smile sharpened.

"They're coming," she said. "The entire Syndicate Council is watching."

"Good," he murmured. "Let the wolves arrive. I brought the bait."

Back at Sung Fortress

Ares sat alone on the rooftop, drenched in moonlight and menace.

Below him, Seren watched from the glass window, fingers curled at her sides.

"Why won't he speak?" she asked quietly.

Xiao—his head of security—answered with a grim look. "Because Rael moved first. And in their world, the one who moves first sets the board."

Seren turned back to the window.

She couldn't help it. She was beginning to see Ares not as the monster others feared… but as a man haunted by shadows not of his own making.

"Where is this event being held?" she asked suddenly.

Xiao hesitated. "Rael's territory. The Crescent Pavilion."

"Then we're going."

He blinked. "Miss Seren—"

"I said we're going. Let me speak to Ares."

That Night – Crescent Pavilion

It felt like stepping into a dragon's den.

Cameras flashed. The floor glimmered like a lake of obsidian. Seren walked beside Ares, wrapped in a dark satin gown that shimmered with silver when the light hit it. Her hair was twisted into a loose crown braid, pinned with tiny dark roses. Her lips were wine-red.

But no one looked at her.

Because he was beside her.

Ares Sung.

Black suit, no tie, eyes glowing like cursed stars. The crowd parted like the sea.

Whispers followed them.

"That's her?"

"The Ming girl?"

"She's beautiful—too soft for Ares."

"Too soft for either of them."

Then the music stopped.

And the temperature shifted.

A slow clap echoed across the hall.

And he appeared.

Rael Sung.

Flanked by security, glowing like a devil bathed in silk, Rael approached the pair with a grin that could melt marble.

"Well, well," he purred, eyes sweeping over Seren like a predator admiring fine art. "The bride herself. How radiant you look, little flower."

Seren didn't speak.

Rael took her hand gently and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

It was soft.

Lingering.

Too long.

Ares didn't move.

Not yet.

"I didn't think Ares would bring you here," Rael said, smirking. "You know how possessive he gets."

"I'm not a possession," Seren said coldly.

Rael raised a brow, then looked at Ares. "Oh? She speaks? I like her. I like her very much."

Still, Ares said nothing.

Rael stepped closer.

"I see you've marked her, brother," he whispered. "But did you tell her the truth? About what you are? What we are?"

Ares' hand curled into a fist.

Rael turned back to Seren.

"Come. Dance with me."

A murmur rose in the crowd.

A public invitation. One no bride-to-be could accept without scandal.

Seren hesitated.

Ares still didn't speak.

And Rael smiled, knowing this was checkmate.

He extended a hand.

And Seren—burning with fury and rebellion—took it.

The Dance

It felt like war.

Rael pulled her close, hand low on her back, guiding her across the ballroom floor like he'd been born to do it.

"You're colder than I imagined," he whispered in her ear. "I like that."

Seren refused to meet his gaze.

He twirled her, catching her waist as she spun back into him.

"I don't know what he told you," Rael murmured. "But I'm not the villain he paints me to be. I'm just the brother who got tired of playing second."

She frowned. "Then why try to kill me?"

He smiled. "I didn't try to kill you, flower. I tried to claim you."

And before she could pull away—he leaned down and kissed her.

Not a soft kiss.

Not romantic.

A public, dominating, possessive kiss.

Gasps echoed around them.

Cameras flashed.

The music stopped.

Seren shoved him away, shaking, furious. "You're insane—!"

But Rael didn't move.

He just stared past her, eyes glittering.

"Now watch," he whispered.

She turned.

And saw Ares.

He was walking toward them.

Not running. Not yelling.

Just walking.

Dead silent.

Each step a promise of pain.

Rael smiled wide. "Here comes the storm."

Ares reached them, and the temperature plummeted.

No words.

Just one motion.

A punch.

It landed so hard Rael staggered, blood spraying across the marble floor.

He laughed.

Ares grabbed him by the throat.

The guards didn't move.

No one dared.

"You want war?" Ares growled.

Rael smiled through the blood. "I am war."

Aftermath

The council broke the moment up. Cameras were destroyed. Silence was paid for. But the damage had been done.

Back at the fortress, Ares stormed into the private wing.

Seren followed.

"You let him touch you."

"I didn't know he'd—"

"You let him kiss you."

"I didn't want that—"

"But you danced with him!"

Her voice rose. "Because you just stood there like a statue! Like I was a pawn again! Like I wasn't even real—!"

He spun, eyes blazing. "You are too real! That's the problem!"

She froze.

He exhaled sharply. Walked up to her.

"You think this is a game?" he whispered. "Rael will burn the world to the ground just to make me suffer. And now you've become his favorite matchstick."

Tears stung her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

"I didn't ask for this."

His voice broke.

"Neither did I."

And then—

The kiss.

Raw.

Devouring.

His mouth crashed onto hers like a man starved for oxygen, for salvation. She clung to him, trembling, furious, falling apart. His hands tangled in her hair. Hers fisted his shirt. Every second of anger turned into heat.

When they finally pulled apart, breathing hard, thunder rolled in the distance again.

But this time…

The storm was inside them.