Hearts Collide (Lingorm)

Chapter 22

The office was dead silent, the tension so thick it felt like a noose tightening around their necks. Anton Dragon sat behind his massive oak desk, his steely gaze locked onto Freen and Lingling as they stood side by side. 

Anton took a slow drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air before he exhaled, his expression unreadable. He looked every bit the part of a mafia kingpin—the father of mafias, as they called him. His presence commanded fear and respect, and today, his patience was wearing thin.

"Do you know why I called this meeting?" Anton's voice was low, almost calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made Freen's stomach twist.

Freen and Lingling exchanged a quick glance, but neither dared to speak. Anton's gaze bore into them, unblinking, waiting. When the silence stretched a second too long, he slammed his cigar down into the ashtray, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

"The stolen shipments," Anton said, his voice hardening. "The burned warehouse. The Russians breathing down our necks because of your negligence."

Freen swallowed hard. She knew this was coming. The Russians didn't take losses lightly, and the warehouse that burned down held both their belongings and Anton's. It was a catastrophe, and Anton wasn't a man who tolerated failure.

Lingling, standing tall beside her, tried to keep her composure.They had no answers. Whoever had sabotaged them had been careful, leaving no trace. Freen opened her mouth, trying to form words that wouldn't dig their grave deeper.

" Dad, We're investigating it," Ling said, her voice steady but tight. "But it's been hard to pin down who's responsible. We think it might be the Vietnamese—"

Anton's bitter laugh cut her off. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You think?" His tone dripped with disdain. "Thinking is for children. You're not here to guess. You're here to act."

The weight of his words hit them both like a punch to the gut. Anton wasn't just angry—he was seething. This wasn't just about business. This was personal now, and Anton Dragon didn't let things slide.

"I warned you," Anton continued, his voice darkening. "In this business, Ling is not my daughter, and you're not her friend. There is no family in this. You take action before your enemies do, or you're as good as dead."

Freen stood straighter, fighting to keep her face neutral. "I understand, Anton. We'll handle it. Once we find out who's behind this, I'll take care of them myself."

Anton stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold. "And what will you do when you find them, Freen? Tell me. What will you do to the traitor?"

Freen swallowed the knot in her throat, then straightened her shoulders. "You know damn well what I do with them... I'll torture them. No one messes with us and gets away with it."