When Bea and Sylas finally reached the enormous door of the Pleasuring Bar, their hearts sank—they were too late. The entrance was already locked, a consequence of the overcrowding inside.
"It's closed! Ugh!" Bea groaned, pounding on the door with desperate force, her frustration evident in every strike.
"Why is it closed?" Sylas muttered, frowning as he tried to pull the door open, confusion wrinkling his brow.
"There's an illegal hidden auction going on inside," Bea explained urgently, her hands still rattling the wood. "Mr. Morgan locked it for VIP customers only… We need to hurry! Elira's in trouble!"
Sylas tugged at the door with all his strength, but it wouldn't budge. Then, a piercing scream cut through the air:
"Go away! Leave me alone!"
Sylas's hair stood on end. Elira's voice rang with terror—she was being assaulted. His silver eyes darkened with fury. Without hesitation, he kicked the door violently. Another figure stepped forward to help him, felling the guards obstructing their path. Sylas's gaze widened as he spotted Cassian at the edge of the chaos.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Sylas bellowed, dodging incoming blades. Cassian, the stubborn Crown Prince, stood firm, his sword ready as he faced the enemies."
"I'm tired of sitting and waiting…" Cassian replied coolly, drawing his sword as enemies lunged at him.
"SYLAS! CASSIAN!"
The two men froze for a split second, their ears catching Elira's desperate cries as she called out their names. Five meters away, Elira struggled in revealing clothes, her every movement a plea for rescue. The sight of someone gripping her ankle ignited a primal rage in both Sylas and Cassian. They didn't pause—every thought consumed by reaching her.
"SOMEBODY! GUARDS! SEIZE THEM! KILL THEM!" Mr. Morgan's scream echoed through the chaos. Elinor, standing on the stage, watched in horror as the two men carved a path through the opposition.
Whenever war called, Cassian and Sylas were known as the unbreakable duo. When paired, no one could best them. Even in one-on-one sparring, victory was always a tie; their swords moved as extensions of one another, synchronized to perfection, unmatched by any others.
For Cassian, time slowed amid the chaos. Nothing mattered but saving Elira. The world could collapse around him; all he wished was to reach her safely.
As Cassian closed in on her, his fierce gaze fixed, he didn't notice the arrow aimed at him from a hidden archer.
"Cassian! Behind you!" Sylas shouted, shoving him aside just in time.
"ACK!" Sylas cried, taking the arrow in his shoulder. He staggered to one knee, bracing against the ground. Cassian froze, his heart thundering. In his desperation to reach Elira, he hadn't seen the danger. Only Sylas's quick intervention spared him. Sylas risked himself, not for friendship, but for duty; if anything happened to the Crown Prince, he would face severe consequences—a fact Cassian didn't comprehend.
"SYLAAAS!" Elira's voice pierced through the fray as she struggled, trying to run toward them. Suddenly, a hand clamped over her arm.
"You bitch! Where do you think you're going? You're coming with me!" Mr. Morgan growled, yanking her toward the centre of the chaos.
When he saw the familiar face of a man with yellow hair and piercing blue eyes, recognition hit him—this was the Crown Prince. Panic flashed across his face. He needed to escape with Elira and sell her for a hefty sum to recover his lost capital, yet he had no idea why the Crown Prince was here.
Elinor's gaze followed the turmoil, recognizing the familiar two men causing havoc. Her heart skipped as she observed Sylas and Cassian tearing through the guards, the chaos reflecting their unmatched skill.
"Let me go!" Elira shrieked, wrenching her arm free.
"ELIRA!" Cassian shouted, but she was still trapped, enemies pressing in on all sides. Sylas's shoulder throbbed from the arrow buried deep in his flesh. Ignoring the searing pain, he gritted his teeth, planted his feet, and yanked the arrow free in one swift, brutal motion. Blood spurted, his muscles tensed, but he didn't hesitate—every ounce of strength pushed him forward. All that mattered was reaching Elira. Standing tall, despite the wound, Sylas surged toward her, unstoppable.
"Save her, Sylas! I'll handle this," Cassian ordered, blocking the oncoming guards.
Sylas nodded and sprang into action, his injured shoulder fueling his determination. He cut through anyone who dared approach, closing in on Elira so she couldn't be taken again.
"ACK!" Mr. Morgan yelled as Sylas kicked him from behind, sending him sprawling. Sylas's terrifying glare bore into Morgan, pure rage at the outrage committed against Elira.
"You!" Sylas hissed, his sword mere inches from Morgan's throat. The man swallowed hard, trembling, as Elinor realized Sylas had been momentarily distracted. She seized the opportunity to flee, but Sylas intercepted, a small knife flicking toward her side, a strand of hair catching on her chest. Elinor froze, eyes wide with shock.
"Where do you think you're going?" Sylas's cold voice sent shivers down her spine.
"I swear! I had nothing to do with this! That… woman tried to sell her daughter to pay off her debts!" Morgan pleaded, kneeling before Sylas.
"And you! You were the one who ordered her kidnapping because of Elira's beauty!" Elinor shouted, pointing at Morgan as Sylas closed in, trapping them both.
"None of you tell the truth, huh? Then die!" Sylas growled, his voice cold and terrifying, ready to strike both Morgan and Elinor for what they'd done to Elira.
Just as Sylas was about to strike, Elira suddenly wrapped her arms around his back.
"Sylas… no… my mother is still my mother," she cried into his shoulder. His eyes widened, yet his fury softened slightly, his heartbeat quickening as he felt her trembling hands against him. Her warmth seeped into him even without a proper embrace; the closeness alone was enough.
Seizing the chance while Sylas was distracted by Elira's embrace, Elinor activated a smoke bomb from her pocket, shrouding the area in a thick haze.
"Stay by my side!" Sylas instructed, his voice sharp with caution, as if wary of what other tricks Elinor and Mr. Morgan might use to take Elira from him again. He pulled her closer. The smoke provided cover, and Elinor and Morgan vanished like shadows. Noticing their escape, Sylas removed his coat and wrapped it around Elira, shielding her from the revealing outfit she had been forced to wear.
"You're bleeding," she whispered, noticing Sylas's shoulder pierced by the arrow. Startled by how close his chest was to her lips, she felt his warmth through the cloak. Her heart raced—comforted and terrified all at once.
"It's nothing. You're safe now—that's all that matters," Sylas reassured her again, his warmth seeping into her very soul. In that moment, Elira's thoughts scattered, her only focus on safety—thanks to Sylas and Cassian.
Once Cassian reached Elira, with all enemies neutralized, he locked his eyes with her. Seeing her unharmed filled him with relief and joy—finally, he had made a difference.
"Are you hurt?" Cassian asked gently.
"I'm fi—" Elira's voice broke as Cassian swept her into a tight embrace, leaving her stunned.
"You're safe with us now, Elira… We're glad we made it in time," he whispered softly. Time seemed to slow, and all Elira could feel were the tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to him, gripping his back tightly.
"I-I was scared… huhhuh," Elira sobbed, the horror of what could have happened threatening to overwhelm her. In her mind, if Cassian and Sylas hadn't arrived, all men there would have violated her. Cassian brushed his hand through her hair, calming her, while Sylas allowed himself the smallest, relieved smile. Both men knew they had arrived just in time to save her from a fate too terrible to imagine.
Outside the bar, Bea watched as Elira was already safe, surrounded by the two men who had protected her. She decided not to interrupt their moment—Elira was happy and secure. Quietly, Bea resolved to leave and head somewhere her relatives could be found.
One lesson Elira had taught Bea was not to remain trapped in the same life her mother had led. For Elira, Bea needed to step away from the past and move toward a new life—one that was better and happier for her. Even though Bea had spent only a short time with Elira in the cell, she had already learned so much from Elira's courage.
"Thank you, Elira," Bea whispered, a faint smile appearing on her lips as she walked away, leaving Elira behind.
While Sylas and Cassian fought their way through and had secured Elira, Mr. Morgan and Elinor slipped away through a secret passage at the back of the bar. They hurried down the narrow corridor toward the exit; Mr. Morgan's hands trembled as he fumbled for the keys in his pocket, aware someone might be following them.
"Hurry up!" Elinor urged, desperate to get away.
"Give me those!" she snapped, and with a sharp movement she snatched the keys from Mr. Morgan's hand.
Elinor rifled through the bunch in haste, then smiled with triumph as she found the right key and the exit door clicked open.
"Hurry!" Mr. Morgan croaked, panic thick in his voice — but Elinor's expression had a different edge. The moment the door swung wide, she shoved him backwards, slammed it shut and turned the lock with a decisive twist.
"YOU WENCH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? OPEN THE DOOR!" Mr. Morgan roared, pounding on the wood as the betrayal hit him.
"I'd rather you got caught than have you demand I pay back my debt—bye!" Elinor said with a grin, then fled again, clutching Mr. Morgan's keys. He was left inside the corridor, alone and trapped.
Rage boiled inside him. "I SWEAR I'LL KILL THAT WOMAN!" he screamed — and then he froze as cold steel pressed against his throat. His eyes widened; he had not seen the stranger step forward.
"You are under arrest," a woman said in a firm, commanding voice, cornering Mr. Morgan completely.
Hours had passed since Sylas and Cassian had successfully eliminated the enemies. Worry crept into both their faces—what if the Commander of Highthorne, Sylas's father, arrived before they could leave? Sylas had already delivered the intelligence about the syndicate: a bald mercenary had confessed that Mr. Morgan was hired to kidnap Elira. Even more shocking, Sylas and Cassian had discovered that Mr. Morgan was one of the highest-ranking members of the syndicate—a fact neither of them had realized had long been under investigation by Sylas's father. Now, the weight of that knowledge pressed heavily on them.
"Cassian… we must leave now. We can't be here when the Commander arrives," Sylas said, his voice tight with concern, while Elira's expression betrayed her confusion. Cassian nodded, prepared to vanish into the shadows, but neither of them expected what came next.
From the bar entrance, the Guards of Highthorne appeared—sudden, precise, and overwhelming. Sylas and Cassian froze. In an instant, all three of them, including Elira, were surrounded. The air grew thick with tension.
"I have a very bad feeling about this," Cassian muttered, his hand twitching near his sword. Sylas's eyes scanned every shadow, anticipating who had sent the guard ahead.
Then a voice rang out—deep, controlled, yet laced with authority and a terrifying edge.
"You really actually drag the Crown Prince into your little hero stunt, Sylas?"
The words made Sylas and Cassian stop dead in their tracks. From the doorway, a figure stepped forward. Black military uniform, gold-trimmed double-breasted jacket, gleaming epaulettes, black pants tucked into knee-high boots, a black cape billowing behind him. A sword hung at his side. Silver hair framed a face of stern authority, and piercing gray eyes swept over them all.
It was him. Sylas's father—Saybil Deniel Crowholt, Commander of the Highthorne Palace.
.