Deadly Queen Unleashed: The Underworld Bends To My Will

Hannah swore a silent, lethal oath to uncover the truth. If the blood of her fallen comrades led back to Aaron, she wouldn't hesitate to balance the scales by taking his life as a final tribute to their memory.

Oblivious to the predatory shift in her aura, Aaron stepped out onto the salt-sprayed deck, his attention fixed on the phone in his hand.

"Report," he commanded, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

"Mr. Dale, the trail for the renowned doctor known as Zephyr remains cold. Those who have crossed paths with the doctor are all tight-lipped, offering nothing but that the doctor is most likely female," the caller reported.

Aaron's expression darkened into a mask of cold calculation. "Widen the net. Zephyr communicates through an assistant named Mia Clayton—pivot your focus to her immediately."

"Understood, Mr. Dale."

Time was a luxury his grandfather no longer possessed; with a failing heart, his only hope rested with Zephyr, a phantom of the medical world whose genius was the only match for such a high-stakes procedure.

The surgeon had built a legendary reputation on their uncanny ability to snatch lives back from the very threshold of the afterlife.

Scanning the horizon with an icy gaze, Aaron grew frustrated; Zephyr had been a ghost for over a year, vanishing without a trace.

Immersed in his tactical planning, he remained entirely unaware of Hannah's presence shadowed in the curve of the stairwell.

A sharp, opportunistic spark ignited in Hannah's mind. His desperate search for Mia and Zephyr wasn't just a coincidence—it was the perfect leverage.

Three hours remained before the yacht would touch the pier, leaving them suspended in the isolation of the sea.

As they neared the land, Hannah went to the deck and leaned against the railing, exhaling a long, measured breath to steady her pulse.

While the ocean breeze toyed with her hair, a storm of conflicting emotions played across her features, she looked up as Aaron approached. "Do you require transport once we dock?"

Following a brief, calculated hesitation, Hannah offered a small nod. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Dale."

Right on cue, the insistent vibration of her phone shattered the quiet of the deck.

Hannah retrieved the device with deliberate slowness, tilting the screen just enough for the name "Mia Clayton" to flare vividly in Aaron's line of sight.

Aaron's pupils constricted instantly. Mia Clayton—the very key he was searching for. How did a woman like Hannah have a direct line to Zephyr's inner circle?

Seizing her advantage, Hannah stepped away to answer the call, leaving him hooked on the bait.

Mia's voice crackled with worry over the line. "Hannah, how's the recovery going? What was with the urgent text telling me to call you right now?"

"I'm doing a lot better. I messaged you because I need a small favor—consider it an acting gig," Hannah answered, her tone perfectly level.

Mia sounded intrigued instantly. "Alright, I'm listening. What's the script?"

Hannah adjusted her grip on the phone, subtly tilting the device until she could see Aaron's reflection hovering within her peripheral vision.

"Actually, the performance just ended," she said, a faint smile touching her lips.

The entire call had been a calculated maneuver; by having Mia reach out in Aaron's presence, she had effectively signaled their alliance without saying a word.

"If a guy named Aaron Dale reaches out to you seeking Zephyr's service, just say yes to the job," she added. "I'll fill you in on the details when I see you."

"You got it," Mia replied.

By the time Hannah ended the call, Aaron had already disembarked from the yacht.

He stood braced against a black Rolls-Royce, a cigarette caught between his lips while his right hand idly manipulated a matte silver lighter.

A practiced flick of his thumb brought a flame to life, the light catching the intensity in his eyes as the ocean wind sent the fire flickering erratically.

Hannah made her way down to join him.

Aaron tucked the lighter away and released a slow cloud of smoke. "Move out."

During the return trip to the Oliver residence, the driver handled the navigation while Hannah and Aaron occupied the rear passenger cabin.

Despite the generous proportions of the seating, Hannah retreated as far as possible toward her door, maintaining a gap wide enough to accommodate two additional passengers.

"Miss Oliver, are you and Mia Clayton close?" Aaron's voice suddenly sliced through the silence, snapping her back to reality.

She offered a slight nod. "We know each other. Why do you ask, Mr. Dale?"

"Don't read too much into it," Aaron said, his voice dropping to a chilly professional tone. "My grandfather needs surgery, and I need the 'miracle doctor' Zephyr to perform it. I've made Mia several massive offers, but she's not biting. I'm thinking you might be able to grease the wheels for me."

He took a moment before adding, "If you pull this off, we'll consider us even."

The ghost of a smile appeared on Hannah's face; everything was unfolding exactly as she'd hoped.

"I'll give it my best shot," she answered, "but I'm not making any promises."

Aaron gave a nod. "I'll be waiting for some good news then, Miss Oliver."

Hannah just gave him a casual nod back.

Aaron's eyes lingered on her, zeroing in on the calluses on her hands. They weren't just rough patches—they looked exactly like the marks left by years of handling a firearm.

"Your hands aren't exactly what I'd expect from a socialite, Miss Oliver," he remarked, trying to sound like he was just making small talk. "How'd you end up with so many calluses?"

Hannah looked him dead in the eye with a sigh. "I had to do a lot of grunt work just to stay afloat back in the day. Though I've gotta say, I didn't expect a guy in your position to have rough hands either, Mr. Dale."

She was genuinely taken aback that a billionaire tycoon like him had hands that looked like they'd seen real action.

"Just from signing way too many contracts," Aaron replied, dismissing the topic just as quickly as she had.

Hannah went quiet, and a layer of awkward tension settled over the interior of the car.

It wasn't long before the car rolled to a stop at the Oliver residence.

Hannah popped the door open. "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Dale."

Aaron watched her with a sharp, calculating look. He then pulled out a card and pressed it into her hand. "If you ever find yourself in a bind, Miss Oliver, give me a call."

"Got it," Hannah said, taking the card.

She turned on her heel and headed toward the house.

Aaron immediately pulled out his phone and made a call, his voice dropping into a cold command. "Dig up everything you can on Hannah Oliver's life before she showed up with the Oliver family."