The pitch-black Tesla tore through the rain-slicked streets of the slums, its engine humming with a predatory growl. Inside, Zephyr sat behind the wheel, his handsome face a carved mask of absolute apathy. He pressed the accelerator, splashing dirty water against the graffiti-covered brick walls.

The tires screeched as the car came to a harsh halt. The multi-million-pound vehicle looked completely absurd parked in front of the rotting shack at the dead-end street.

Zephyr stepped out into the freezing night air. He adjusted the collar of his custom black trench coat, his icy eyes scanning the neighborhood. The air reeked of cheap alcohol and rotting garbage. His leather shoes clicked menacingly against the cracked concrete. Every step toward that peeling wooden door echoed like a death sentence. He raised a gloved fist and pounded aggressively on the fragile wood, the heavy thuds shattering the dead silence.

When the door finally creaked open, Zephyr’s piercing, dead gaze locked onto Milo. His expression didn't soften a fraction of an inch; there was zero trace of the childhood friend he used to be. Radiating the chilling aura of a ruthless mafia boss, he leaned his imposing frame forward, immediately invading the cramped space.

"You're late on this week's payment," Zephyr stated, his voice a dangerous, lethal baritone. His dark eyes bored straight through the tense atmosphere.

"And frankly, the miserable pennies you've been handing over are insulting my intelligence," he continued, forcing his way into the doorway so his massive shadow loomed over the entrance. "I'm increasing your monthly interest by twenty percent. Starting tonight."

Before any protests could be made, Zephyr shamelessly scanned the freezing shack. The crumbling walls and stained mattress made his upper lip curl in disgust. He let out a dry, humorless scoff.

"Look at this absolute fucking shithole," Zephyr muttered, his voice dripping with venomous mockery. "You're busting your ass day and night at pathetic, minimum-wage jobs."

"And yet, you still live worse than a stray dog," he added ruthlessly. "Let's be realistic. You could work for five lifetimes and still never cover the interest of the hundred million your deadbeat father owed mine." He reached into his tailored coat, pulling out a solid silver cigarette case with a sharp click.

"But consider it your lucky day. I'm feeling generous," Zephyr murmured. He placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it with a heavy gold lighter, and took a deep drag. The glowing amber briefly illuminated his emotionless features in the dark doorway.

"I'm offering you a permanent way out of this hellhole," he said smoothly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. "Instead of wasting your body working to the bone for loose change, you're going to use it for me."

His dark, obsessive gaze dropped, shamelessly raking over Milo's body before snapping back up.

"Every night you spend in my bed, submitting to whatever the fuck I want to do to you, I will erase one zero from that massive debt," he offered, sounding purely like a dirty, transactional business deal. "Give me your body, and I'll pull you out of this shack. I'll give you a life of luxury you can't even fathom."

"So, what's it going to be?" Zephyr demanded softly, his icy eyes daring any hesitation. "Are you going to keep rotting in this garbage dump until you die like your father... or are you going to get on your knees and start paying me off the easy way?"

The jarring transition from the freezing asphalt of the slums to a bed that felt like a cloud was impossible to ignore. The air in the massive, dimly lit room smelled of cedarwood, faint cigarette smoke, and rich masculine cologne. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the glittering city skyline, a stark contrast to the miserable streets below.

Zephyr stood at the foot of the enormous king-sized bed, his imposing presence dominating the room. He hadn't moved for the past hour, his dark eyes tracking every ragged breath from the mattress. The moment Milo's exhausted eyes finally fluttered open, Zephyr’s jaw clamped shut in irritation.

He stood there like a lethal predator, his heavily tattooed, muscular torso bare. Dressed only in black designer sweatpants, his hands were planted firmly on his hips. His sharp features were twisted into a furious scowl, devoid of any sympathy.

"What kind of absolute fucking idiot works themselves until they pass out on the concrete?" Zephyr spat, his dangerous baritone slicing through the quiet bedroom. He took a deliberate step toward the bed, his terrifying aura suffocating the air.

"Do you have a death wish, or are you genuinely that stupid?" he demanded, stopping beside the mattress. "If my men hadn't been patrolling that garbage dump to collect from another rat, you'd be dead in a gutter by now."

Zephyr scoffed, running a heavy hand through his messy blond hair in frustration. He was lying straight through his teeth, expertly hiding the fact that he had stalked them from the shadows, swooping in the second the collapse happened.

"I told you I expect my money. I didn't tell you to starve yourself into a fucking coma, you pathetic fool," Zephyr growled. He leaned slightly over the bed, his dark eyes flashing with unforgiving coldness. Before the tension could escalate, two polite knocks echoed from the heavy oak door. Zephyr didn't break his lethal eye contact as he barked a harsh command.

"Come in."

The door swung open silently. Caspian, Zephyr's stoic right-hand man, stepped in carrying a polished silver tray. The mouth-watering scent of a perfectly seared steak, roasted vegetables, and warm soup filled the luxurious room, overpowering the cologne.

Caspian didn't say a word. He walked over to the side of the bed, respectfully bowed his head toward Zephyr, and carefully placed the food tray onto the dark mahogany nightstand.

Zephyr finally pulled his intense gaze away from the bed, letting out a heavy exhale. He turned to look at his subordinate, his expression hardening back into an icy mask. "Call Dr. Vance immediately," Zephyr ordered coldly, leaving no room for discussion. "Tell him my special guest has finally woken up. I want him here in ten minutes for a full check-up. If there's any long-term damage from this stunt, I want to know."

"Right away, Boss," Caspian murmured, bowing before swiftly exiting and clicking the heavy door shut.

The heavy silence returned. Zephyr slowly turned his attention back to the bed, his cold eyes flicking briefly toward the steaming plate of food before locking back onto his target.

"Sit up and eat every single bite on that fucking plate," Zephyr commanded ruthlessly, crossing his thick, tattooed arms over his chest. His voice held a dark warning.

"Because if you think you can just destroy your health, drop dead, and escape your father's massive debt, you are dead wrong," he sneered, leaning down to let his words burn into the atmosphere. "You don't have the right to break a body that belongs to me. Now, eat."

The sticky heat of the summer night hung heavy in the air. The fortified wrought-iron gates of Zephyr's private estate loomed at the end of the street, looking more like a high-security prison than a billionaire's mansion. The rhythmic chirping of cicadas was the only sound breaking the silence.

Lyric stood in front of the intercom panel, vibrating with eager anticipation. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting his designer shirt to ensure he looked perfect. He had just pressed the polished silver button, waiting for security to let him inside his favorite playground.

The sound of footsteps echoed against the pavement. Lyric glanced over his shoulder in annoyance, expecting a patrolling guard. Instead, his sharp eyes landed directly on Milo, walking straight toward the entrance.

Lyric’s perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowed in deep suspicion. Unaware of any monthly debt collection, all he saw was another guy showing up at his wealthy fuck buddy's mansion in the middle of the night. A dark wave of territorial jealousy flared in his chest.

He stepped away from the intercom, purposely blocking the keypad with his body as he glared at Milo from head to toe. A condescending smirk tugged at his lips.

"Are you seriously lost, or just completely delusional?" Lyric scoffed, his voice dripping with venom. He crossed his arms defensively, judging Milo's entire presence.

"Because if you're here to see Zephyr, you can turn right back around and march your ass back to whatever cheap street corner you crawled out of," he sneered, taking a menacing step forward.

"He didn't call for you. He called for me. And let's be entirely real here... you are so far out of his league, it's actually pathetic," Lyric laughed dryly.

He tilted his head, his gaze turning vicious as he stepped directly into Milo's personal space.

"I know exactly what you're after, so don't try to play dumb with me," Lyric hissed maliciously. "You want the black card, the mansion, the endless luxury. You're just another desperate rat trying to get a piece of his wealth."

Lyric reached out, pretending to brush a non-existent speck of dust off his own shoulder, treating Milo like an annoying bug.

"Well, guess what? His money, that perfect, heavily tattooed body, and his massive, thick cock belong to me tonight. And I sure as hell don't share my toys," he bragged explicitly, showing zero shame.

"Do yourself a massive favor and go find some pathetic sugar daddy who actually settles for mediocrity," Lyric mocked, rolling his eyes.

"Zephyr wouldn't even look twice at a beggar like you when he has me waiting inside to ride his brains out," he added with a self-satisfied chuckle.

Before Lyric could spew another insult, a mechanical click echoed from the heavy iron gates. The massive metal doors groaned apart, revealing the sprawling courtyard of the mafia boss's estate.

Heavy footsteps crunched against the gravel driveway. The suffocating aura of absolute power preceded him. Zephyr emerged from the shadows, an unlit cigarette resting casually between his lips.

His sharp features were a mask of pure apathy. His cold eyes stared straight ahead, radiating a dangerous energy that commanded instant submission. He just looked like a ruthless predator stepping out into the night.

The change in Lyric's demeanor was violently fast. The venomous scowl vanished, completely replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile.

He immediately spun around, turning his back on Milo as if the vile conversation had never happened. His body language softened into a desperate, eager puppy wanting attention.

"Zey! Baby, I'm right here!" Lyric chirped enthusiastically, waving his hand with fake innocence.

"I missed you so much, I just couldn't wait to get inside," he cooed loudly, blatantly ignoring Milo standing right behind him.

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