?Chapter 1379:


    Every time Christina’s belt struck one of them, it felt like a p across his own face, stripping him of his pride and power.


    How could one woman be this good at fighting? He had been certain those trained men would be more than enough to crush her. Yet there they were, sprawled on the ground, crying and begging like children. The sight made the vein in his temple throb with pure frustration.


    “Useless idiots!” Darian growled under his breath. “Elite fighters, my ass. A dozen men and not one could handle a single woman. What a damn disgrace!” He mmed a fist against the car door, seething.


    At first, his anger burned hot and sharp. But as he continued to watch Christina—her movements powerful andmanding, her presence utterly dominant—something else began to stir inside him, something darker and far more confusing.


    He was used to being the one in control, the one dealing out pain, watching women tremble and plead for leniency. That had always been his idea of pleasure.


    Yet now, watching Christina’s fury unfold, he felt something entirely different—an unfamiliar, exhrating rush he couldn’t quite exin.


    Christina stood tall above the defeated fighters, the belt hanging loosely in her hand like a weapon of judgment.


    And as that image burned into his mind, Darian imagined himself in their ce—beneath her, at her mercy—and, to his own disgust, a flicker of excitement ran through him.


    In the dim interior of his car, Darian leaned back against the leather seat, eyes half-closed, his mind reying the scene of Christina’s defiance.


    Instead of anger, a strange thrill coursed through him. His pulse quickened, and his lips curved.


    He could almost picture her standing before him—eyes sharp, chin lifted, unyielding.


    When he finally opened his eyes, the calm, civilized facade was gone. What remained was something feral, a predator’s hunger lurking beneath the surface.


    His gaze turned cold, sharp, and possessive. He had made his decision. Whether Christina came from a rich family or not didn’t matter. She had captured his attention—and that made her his.


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    A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He believed she wouldn’t escape him.


    Christina felt a prickle at the back of her neck, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Her brows knitted slightly as she scanned the area, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.


    Who sent them? Were they after her… or after her father, Hurley? That didn’t make sense. Her identity as Hurley’s daughter wasn’t public knowledge yet, so why would someone target her this soon?


    Her thoughts darkened.


    One of the thugs tried to crawl away. Christina stepped forward, nting her foot firmly on his.


    “Say it,” she ordered, her tone cutting through the air like a de as she raised the belt again. “Who sent you?”


    The thug winced, trembling under her gaze. “I—I swear we don’t know! We were just hired to do the job! The employer’s identity is ssified—we’re never told who it is!”


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