Page 9 of Sinful Obsession

The voice rolled like thunder—cold, measured, and deadly.

We both froze.

From across the open field, a man approached. Not just any man—tall as a nightmare, shoulders wide, built like the gods of war had carved him from stone. His navy-blue uniform bore five stars on the epaulet. Had to be one of the higher-ups.

His eyes were obsidian ice, cold enough to burn. He had the face of someone who had watched men die and never flinched. Sharp jaw. Cruel mouth. A scar slicing his left brow. He prowled, like a predator who never needed to rush.

Panic rippled through the boy I had just fought.

My throat dried. My feet itched to move.

The man in the five-star uniform didn’t speak again until he stood close enough to steal my breath.

“We have rules here,” he said, his voice a low, resonant growl that vibrated in my bones. “Order is the only thing keeping this place from chaos. Break it again, and you’ll beg for death before I’m done with you.”

His eyes flicked to me, pinning me where I stood. “You’re new, so you get one warning. Don’t waste it.”

“Go,” he commanded, the word a whip-crack.

The boy nodded furiously, wiped his mouth, and took off without a backward glance.

I turned to leave too, heart pounding, body still buzzing from adrenaline—

“Stay. Short one. I’m not finished.”

The words landed like a bullet.

Short one?

God.

Was I really the shortest?

My stomach twisted. Of course I was. Compared to him—this towering beast in a five-star uniform—and the rest of the hulking, rage-born heirs wandering the grounds, I probably looked like a fucking malnourished twelve-year-old.

Great.

Exactly the kind of attention I’d wanted to avoid.

He hadn’t even looked at the boy darting away. His voice was quiet, unhurried, but it sliced through the space with terrifying precision.

His eyes were on me.

I straightened my back and nodded, forcing my jaw to stay tight even as fear rattled through my ribs.

He studied me with a gaze that cut past skin and disguise.

“Your name?” he asked, voice low but commanding—like someone who expected obedience without question.

My heart thundered.

“Charles,” I said, the lie smooth on my tongue. I’d chosen it for its closeness toCharlotte, a lifeline to my true self in this snake pit.

He stepped closer, his boots echoing on the concrete. “Charles,” he repeated, the name a challenge in his mouth. “Have you killed before?”

“Of course,” I lied, lifting my chin to meet his gaze.

His gaze dropped to my hands—trembling at my sides despite the bravado in my voice.