The ground was littered with discarded weapons and the smoldering remains of those who had dared to challenge me.

I stood there for a moment, watching the chaos dissipate, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade:

"Are you guys ready to die?"

The few who remained froze in terror. Their eyes widened, their breaths hitched, and then, like a wave, they turned and ran.

I didn't bother to stop them. Fear was a far more effective tool than death. Killing them all would serve no purpose—letting them live in terror would.

I turned to Max, who was pushing himself up from the ground, his lip bleeding but his eyes burning with unwavering loyalty. "Manage them," I ordered, my voice firm and unyielding.

"And my offer still stands—women can enter the fortress. They'll live as they did before. Work, eat, thrive." I paused, my gaze sweeping over the remnants of the crowd, the ones who hadn't fled yet. "But men stay out. That's the rule."

Max nodded, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Understood, boss," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around us. "And what about those who refuse?"

I smirked, my eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Then they don't get to live inside these walls. Simple as that."

Angela stepped closer to me, her hand brushing against my arm. "Dexter," she said, her voice soft but laced with concern, "you must be exhausted. Let's go rest." Her fingers traced lightly over my skin, a gesture that was both comforting and possessive.

I exhaled, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. With a thought, I reabsorbed the machine gun back into the system storage, the weapon dissolving into nothingness as if it had never existed. The crowd's fear was palpable, but I had more important things to focus on.

Lisa drove us back to Angela's mansion—Walter's old estate, now ours. The irony wasn't lost on me. The man who had once ruled this place was dead by my hand, and now his home was mine. The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur a stark contrast to the chaos we had just left behind.

As we stepped inside, the scent of breakfast—coffee, toast, and something sweet—filled the air. Three women sat in the dining area: Nathalie, Jennifer, and Emily. Jennifer and Nathalie were leaning over their plates, murmuring to each other, but Emily's head snapped up as we entered. Her eyes locked onto Angela and then me, her expression shifting from curiosity to impatience.

"Where's Mike?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the calm. "You told me he'd be here soon. Where is he?"

Angela smirked, sliding an arm around my waist as she turned to Emily. "Don't worry," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement, "you'll meet him soon. Just be patient, Emily." Her fingers traced lightly along my side, a silent claim that wasn't lost on anyone in the room.

Nathalie pushed her plate away, standing abruptly. Her voice was desperate, pleading. "Can you please take me to meet Tyler? I'll do anything you ask. Please." Her eyes were wide, her body trembling slightly as she waited for an answer.

I reached out, my fingers barely grazing her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft, but she flinched at the contact, her breath catching in her throat. "Finish your breakfast," I said, my voice a quiet murmur, gentle but firm. "Then I'll take you to him. Okay?"

Nathalie's wide, hopeful eyes met mine, and her shoulders relaxed just a little. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling but obedient.

I turned to Jennifer, my tone shifting slightly. "Jennifer… can you come with me for a second? There's something I need to say to you. Alone."

Jennifer hesitated, glancing at Emily, whose nervousness was palpable. But after a moment, she nodded and followed me into the room. Her steps were slow, uncertain, and her gaze darted between me and the door as I closed it behind us. The sharp click of the lock echoed in the silence, and her breath hitched—panicked, uneven.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice sharp with fear and anger. "Why are you locking the door?!" Her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides, her eyes wide and wild.

I turned to face her, my expression unshaken, almost amused, as I leaned back against the door. "Calm down," I said, my voice smooth, deliberate. "Mother-in-law."

Jennifer's face burned crimson, her outrage boiling over. "Mother-in-law?! I'm not your mother-in-law!" she snapped, her voice trembling with fury.

"What kind of sick game is this?! Who do you think you are?!" Her chest heaved, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

I raised my hands slightly, my voice soft but steady. "Ok… ok, don't worry. Things aren't what you think." I paused, letting my tone shift to something gentler, almost reassuring.

"Can you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you. You'll definitely like it." I watched her expression flicker—confusion, suspicion, a glimmer of curiosity. "It's related to Mike."

Jennifer's breath hitched. "Mike…?" she repeated, her voice wavering. She hesitated, her eyes darting toward the door as if calculating her escape. "Don't you dare try to take advantage of me," she warned, her voice shaking but firm. "I swear, I'll scream. I'll—"

I nodded patiently, my gaze unwavering. "I promise, Jennifer. Just trust me for a second."

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and after a long, tense moment, she finally closed her eyes. Her entire body was rigid, her breath shallow and uneven.

I began to undress slowly, the rustle of fabric filling the silence. Jennifer's eyebrows furrowed. "What is that sound?" she asked, her voice tight with suspicion. "What are you doing?" Her fingers twitched at her sides, as if ready to lash out or flee.

"It's nothing," I murmured, my voice calm. I wanted to test something—to see if Jennifer could recognize me by touch alone. After all, she had spent so much time with him, exploring every inch, every detail. Would she know?

I moved closer, the space between us charged with tension. My breath brushed against her ear as I whispered, "Jennifer… do you remember?"

She flinched, her body trembling. "Remember what?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "What are you—? Don't you dare—!" Her hands shot up, as if to push me away, but she hesitated, frozen in uncertainty.

"Shhh," I soothed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just… tell me. Do you recognize this?" I guided her hand gently, letting her fingers brush against me.

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