Chapter 166: Just a preview

"That’s a r-rough welcome... Are you n-not happy to see an o-old friend?" Nyland stuttered nervously, his words stumbling as he was shoved violently toward a heavy table.

Magnus ignored his pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. Staggering slightly, barely keeping his balance, Dean smoothed down his expensive shirt, grimacing in disgust. The gesture looked even more pathetic—a desperate attempt to cling to dignity where it had already been trampled into the dirt.

"You have n-no right to detain me, Rainn. So l-let’s just all try t-to be friendly."

Exhaling a thick cloud of smoke directly into Nyland’s face, Magnus didn’t budge an inch. Electric tension crackled through the air as his eyes darkened, turning into two bottomless abysses.

"Friendly? You had the nerve to drag yourself into my city, knowing full well I could kill you. I will take no requests from you." Magnus’s voice sounded like a quiet, fatal sentence, deep enough to resonate through his opponent’s very bones.

Dean’s face didn’t flinch, but that was hardly surprising—his facial nerves had never fully recovered from what had been done to him. Now his face was just a frozen, lifeless mask.

"I came for my sister," the man said coldly, steadfastly avoiding Magnus’s eyes. He knew all too well that a single moment of direct eye contact would send his instincts spiraling into sheer panic.

"For five years, you couldn’t care less about her, and now you show up on a private jet?" Magnus bared his teeth in a predatory smirk, his gaze searing into Dean, catching every twitch and nervous micro-movement of his body. "Did family loyalty suddenly kick in?"

"I don’t owe you an ex-explanation—" Dean tried to snap back. Shrugging nervously, he began to cross his arms over his chest, trying to shield himself from Magnus’s crushing aura.

He never finished the sentence, though.

With a deafening crash, the heavy table flew across the room, smashing into the wall paneling. Before Nyland could even draw a breath of fear, he was slammed back into an armchair, the cold barrel of a handgun pressed hard against his temple.

Fear—raw, suffocating dread from the threat of having his skull shattered before Magnus could even pull the trigger—instantly paralyzed his body.

"If I find out, or so much as suspect, that you pose a threat to my family..." Magnus leaned in closer, his whisper far more terrifying than an animal roar. "I will finish you off and feed your miserable carcass to the rogue strays on the outskirts. Do you understand me?"

The metal of the gun dug painfully into Nyland’s skin, the silver dusting already scorching it, promising a world of pain if the trigger was pulled. Death stood right there in the room, breathing down his neck.

"You have until evening. If you’re not out of this city by then... you’re fucking dead. What I did to you back then was just a preview of what I still can do."

Dean’s eyes widened, his pupils quivering. Raw terror flooded him from within, drowning out whatever pathetic remnants of pride he had left.

"Y-you’re insane! I got state permission to stay for two days, and I’m not leaving early! You should be glad I’m taking her off your hands!" The words burst out of him in a single, hysterical stream.

Frightened out of his mind, Dean had even stopped stuttering. For a fraction of a second, Magnus wondered if the bastard was merely playing sick, so clean and sharp was his final outburst. Medical technology had advanced, after all; foreign doctors could have patched him up far better than he let on.

"Then you’ll be under constant surveillance," Magnus said slowly, mockingly dragging out every second as he pulled the gun back from the man’s sweat-slicked temple. "Not just by government agents, but by my men as well. You’d better wrap up your business fast. You won’t be setting foot in this country ever again. I can promise you that."

Magnus paused, his lips pulling back into a cruel, ruthless sneer.

"Unless it’s in pieces."

"I wasn’t planning on coming back anyway..." Nyland exhaled softly, almost inaudibly. Raising his trembling hands, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying in vain to conceal the violent shaking that wracked his body.

Without another word, Magnus turned and walked out of the room without saying goodbye. The two guards who had dragged Dean inside remained standing at the door—on the inside. Now, they were his handlers: Magnus’s absolute eyes and ears. One wrong move from Dean, and his heart would stop beating.

Stepping out of the terminal building into the cool night air, which was already being pierced by a crimson sunrise, Magnus inhaled the freezing air deeply. Sweeping his gaze across the empty plaza, he noted that the reporters had already been dispersed. No noise remained—only the distant hum of engines somewhere on the tarmac. Suddenly, his phone vibrated softly in his trousers pocket.

Pulling out the device, he opened an incoming message. On the bright screen, photos loaded one after another: various stunning locations, lavish decorations, flowers, and a short yet crucial note from the event planner:

We only need you to finalize the guest list for the invitations. We also kindly ask that you bring your bride in to have her measurements taken for the gown. It is an absolute honor for us to organize your wedding!

Looking down at the screen, Magnus smirked, the harsh, intimidating lines of his face instantly softening. The photograph displayed a majestic Gothic cathedral carved from dark stone, literally drowning in a sea of snow-white roses.

A perfect pairing.

The darkness of his nature and the purity of her light. Gripping the phone in his palm, he raised his eyes toward the dawning sky, a burning wave of fierce possessiveness surging deep within his chest.

Today.

Today, he would take his woman to see the venue himself. And no one in this damn world would dare destroy what belonged solely to him.