Ren knelt on the cold, polished floor, his heart pounding like a war drum. The air was still thick with the scent of incense and smoke from the pipes the women were puffing on.
He glared at Lan Xue feeling a surge of anger bubbling up inside him like boiling lava. But as he scanned the room—the dim lights, the guards at the doors, the two other powerful women lounging on silk cushions, he knew he was in grave danger. One wrong move, and he might not walk out alive.
"Fuck! What do I do? What do I do?" Ren thought to himself, as he kept looking everywhere for a exit.
Lan Xue rose gracefully from her seat, her posture shouting this woman is powerful. She waved off the young man who had been dancing provocatively close to her, his hips swaying in a hypnotic rhythm as he was dry humping Xue's shoulder. "Enough," she said dismissively, her voice stern.
The dancer bowed and scurried away, leaving her path clear. She sauntered toward Ren, her eyes locked on his with a predatory gleam.
