The moment Phoenix began walking toward him with that expressionless, almost glacial calm in her eyes, Wesley Apex felt something inside him snap.
“Help! Somebody help me—now!” he shrieked, his voice cracking into something high and hysterical.
The pounding of doors slamming open echoed down the corridor.
Within seconds, the suite’s neighboring doors burst outward. A wave of disciplined men in dark suits rushed in—trained, synchronized, efficient. Half of them formed a tight encirclement around Conrad Stone and Phoenix, their movements sharp and precise. The other half arranged themselves into a human barricade in front of Wesley, shielding him like a mobile fortress.
Only then did the suffocating pressure around his chest ease slightly.
He had to thank his father for this.
Ever sinc
