Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rex
Rex’s private beach villa, Pearl Paradise...
The sand was cold beneath his feet. Not a cold that came from the night air but one that seeped into your bones like a corpse’s touch.
Rex didn’t bother to search for Xia anywhere else.
He knew. The way a man knew when he stood at the edge of a cliff and the ground beneath him was about to give way.
Dominic was here at his house. He could feel him.
His presence was a pulse of malice thrumming in the air as thick as the salt on his tongue.
He was out for revenge. And revenge, Rex knew, was a dish best served slowly, brutally, and without mercy in an environment where he knew he was in control.
Rex’s breath came in ragged, uneven bursts. His lungs burned as if he’d been running for hours instead of minutes. His heart pounded a frantic, desperate rhythm that echoed in his skull.
Xia. Her name wasn’t just a thought. It was a prayer, a curse, and a blade twisting in his gut. He had failed her. The realization hit him like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs.
I failed her. The one person he had sworn to protect.
The one person who managed to reach past all his walls and fill the hollow, gnawing emptiness of his own existence.
He had let her down. He had been so wrapped up in his own games and needs, his own fucking arrogance, that he hadn’t even noticed she was gone until it was too late.
And now? Now she’s paying for it.
The silent cry was a live wire in his chest, burning through every nerve and shred of control he had left.
His pulse hammered in his throat as his fingers bulged into fists—not from adrenaline, but from fear.
A fear that stripped away everything—his billion-dollar empire, reputation, and the goddamn algorithm that had made him untouchable.
For one blinding second, he wasn’t Rex Oliver, the man who’d outsmarted governments and hacked the global market.
He was just a man who’d left the one precious thing he couldn’t protect in the hands of a bastard who had already proven his vicious nature.
The night was too quiet, a quiet that came before a storm.
His skin prickled with unease. Rex’s footsteps were the only sound; even muted on the sand, they were the only aspect breaking the oppressive stillness.
Each step felt like lead, like he was walking toward his own execution.
His thoughts were a labyrinth of fear and fury, and a storm of what-ifs and if-onlys that threatened to drown him before he even reached the villa.
What if she was already dead?
Just thinking about it was a knife to the gut, a cold, sharp pain that stole his breath.
He couldn’t bear the vision of her lifeless body, of her beautiful, vibrant soul snuffed out because of his mistakes.
He couldn’t, he fucking refused to let that happen, but the fear was there, gnawing at him, whispering in the back of his mind with the voice of Satan.
What if I’m too late?
The villa loomed ahead, a sleek, modern monstrosity that now seemed like a tomb. The glass doors stood wide open, a gaping maw, an invitation—or rather, a challenge. The moonlight spilled inside, casting long, eerie shadows that danced and twisted on the walls.
He faltered when he saw her. Xia—his Xia.
Naked. Bound against a Saint Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room, placed strategically for him to see in the moonlight as he approached.
Her wrists and ankles were tied to the cross.
In the bright silver streaks, he saw the canvas of brutality her body had become.
Bruises bloomed across her skin like dark, rotting flowers—purple and black around her breasts, her thighs, her stomach.
Finger marks, deep and vicious, were already turning dark.
Her head rolled forward, and her dark hair was matted with sweat as her breath came in shallow, broken gasps.
Rex’s world narrowed to a single, horrifying point.
“Xia.” His vision tunneled, the edges blurring as the world around him faded into a haze of red.
The demon inside him didn’t just roar—it screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage that tore through him like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
He surged forward, not thinking, not caring if this was a trap or if there were guns pointed at his back.
He had to reach her. He had to get her down from that fucking cross.
The lights flickered on the moment he stepped over the threshold. A slow, deliberate click, and the room was bathed in harsh downlights. The sudden light seared his retinas and forced him to see every detail of the horror before him.
Xia’s lip was red with blood seeping from a deep cut.
Her ribs stood out too sharply beneath her skin from how she was stretched out against the cross.
His breath wheezed from his chest at the sight of blood drying between her thighs, as the sickening, copper tang of it filled his nose.
His stomach rolled. Her entire body trembled as her muscles strained against the bonds that held her, but to no avail—she didn’t have the strength to break loose.
Rex’s hands curled into fists so tight, his nails drew blood from his palms. His entire body shook with the force of his fury as his rage turned into a living, breathing beast that demanded blood, that demanded death.
“Ah, look who finally decided to join the party.”
Dominic Drake’s voice floated toward him in a dry, mocking rasp.
It was the sound of a man who had already won.
Rex turned slowly. His movements were controlled.
His face was molded in a mask of cold, lethal fury.
His eyes, however, were anything but cold.
They burned with a fire so intense, it could have melted steel.
Dominic stood in the corner, lounging against the wall like he owned the place.
His suit was immaculate, his dark-blonde hair slicked back, and his smile.
.. was a knife’s edge mocking Rex. Beside him, two burly guards stood with guns drawn.
Their eyes were flat and empty, watching him with their fingers ready on the triggers.
“A little late, though,” Dominic continued, tilting his head like a predator sizing up prey.
His gaze flicked to Xia, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
“Since I already decided to take a taste of my own.” He paused, his smile widening.
“Quite the little whore you bred for yourself, Rex, my man. I am impressed.”
The demon inside Rex didn’t just roar this time. It exploded. And the world went red as his vision blurred. His body reacted with instinct. His mind became a whirlwind of fury and despair as he lunged forward, reaching for Drake, ready to tear the man apart with his bare hands.
Drake’s men were faster.
Gunshots rang out, the sound deafening in the confined space.
Rex felt the burn of a bullet grazing his shoulder and arm, the impact knocking him off balance.
He stumbled, his vision swimming, but he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t stop. Not when Xia was still in danger.
Not when the man who had hurt her was still standing.
He surged forward again, his body moving on pure adrenaline. His mind swirled in a haze of red. He heard Drake’s laughter. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. It fucking grated against his nerves. The click of the two guards’ guns stopped him.
“You always were a sentimental fool, Rex,” Drake taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. “Did you really think you could keep her safe? Did you really think you could protect her from the world?” His voice rose. “After you FUCKED me over, making a FOOL of me? OF ME!”
Rex didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His actions spoke for him.
Ignoring the threat of the two guards, he launched himself at Dominic with a primal roar.
His hands locked around the smiling bastard’s throat.
He squeezed, his fingers digging into flesh, his vision channeling until all he could see was his once friend’s face contorted in fear and his eyes wide with shock.
“Yes, you motherfucker,” Rex growled in a low, deadly snarl. “You should’ve run. You should’ve run when you had the chance.”
He squeezed harder. Dominic’s face purpled as his veins bulged like overloaded wires beneath his skin.
His fingers scratched desperately at Rex’s wrist. His nails drew blood, but Rex refused to relent.
The man who had once been his friend, his brother-in-arms, now gasped like a drowning rat beneath his grip.
“Get this fucking bastard off me!” Dominic squealed.
The hands that grabbed Rex from behind were brutal—used to breaking bones in back alleys and dragging bodies through the sand.
Dominic’s bodyguards seized Rex with unyielding grips.
One drove a knee into his spine, the other slammed him face-first into the floor.
The impact sent a white-hot jolt of pain through his skull.
His vision swam as blood trickled from his split cheekbone.
He stilled at the sound floating toward him.
“Rex...” Her voice was broken. Shattered. Like glass under a boot.
He didn’t hesitate. In three ferocious moves, he threw off the guards and rushed to her side.
With brute force, he ripped the ropes from her wrists and freed her from the cross.
Her body collapsed into his arms, too light, too cold, and too fucking still.
He caught her against him. The warmth of her blood stained his shirt, and her tears soaked into his skin.
The scent of her fear clung to him, and the stench of violation churned his stomach.
Rage roared through him like a black fire, burning away everything but the need to erase Dominic from existence. His jaw clenched so tight, his teeth groaned. His voice was raw and jagged when he forced out the words.
“Did he—” He couldn’t even finish the question.