The predator's obsession.

They called him royalty.

Not the kind that waved from balconies or signed peace treaties -
but the kind that bled empires dry and built thrones from ash.

Ares Hadeon Drakonis.

Russian by blood. Greek by fire.
Born into legacy. Built on violence. Crowned by fear.

The world knew him as a billionaire.
Quiet. Impossibly rich. Unreachable.

But beneath the silk suits and silence was something far worse.

The predator who ruled the Russian underworld like a god in exile.

He didn't negotiate. He owned.

He didn't fall in love. He devoured obsession.

And he wasn't hunting for a queen. He already had power.

Until she appeared -

A woman wearing disguise like armor and danger like perfume.
A half-British royal with a knife for a tongue.

She was supposed to be untouchable.

But Ares didn't believe in limits.

He believed in possession.

And once his eyes found her...

There was no going back.

Because even devils tremble when the predator decides he wants to play.