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The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here Novel Cover

The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here

Serena wakes bound to a rusted chair in a warehouse, her memory erased except for her name. A thug with a bloodstained bat threatens her and a kidnapped boy—until brutal muscle memory takes over. She dislocates her wrist, breaks his nose, and crushes his windpipe with tactical precision. When the boy's father, Wall Street tyrant Silas Sterling, storms in, he throws a background check at her: an eighteen-year-old trailer park delinquent. He's certain she's the mastermind. But no street trash knows Pentagon-level de-escalation protocols to calm his traumatized son—or possesses alien medical tech to revive his grandmother from brain death. Every instinct screams this identity is a forged trap, yet Serena has no past. She signs his hundred-million-dollar contract to find out who she really is.
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Chapter 2

The call connected. A low, metallic voice vibrated through the small speaker, carrying a chilling authority.

"Coordinates."

Serena clicked to send the coordinates, and a few minutes later, a deafening roar echoed throughout the warehouse. The helicopter's rotors rhythmically pounded against the roof, producing a dull thud.

The gale-force wind hit the building. The remaining glass in the high windows shattered inward. Thousands of jagged shards rained down like shrapnel.

Serena threw herself over Leo. She pinned him to the concrete, curling her body to form a human shield. Sharp stings bit into her back and shoulders as the glass sliced through her wet shirt.

The heavy iron doors blew off their hinges. Five PMC mercenaries stormed the room. They moved with lethal precision, night-vision goggles strapped to their helmets. Five red laser dots instantly converged on the center of Serena's forehead.

Serena's muscles locked. She slowly raised her hands, keeping her palms open and visible, adopting a flawless tactical surrender posture.

The mercenaries did not pull their triggers. They stepped aside in perfect unison, creating a path to the doorway.

A tall figure in a wheelchair moved through the dust and rubble. The blinding moonlight shone on the edges of his specially made leather shoes. The wheelchair rolled over the ground with a chilling, merciless sound.

Silas Sterling stepped into the warehouse. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. His dark eyes swept over the unconscious Vince, then locked onto Serena, who was still shielding the boy.

Leo peeked out from under Serena's arm. He let out a frantic, breathy gasp. He scrambled out from under her and ran on unsteady legs toward Silas, throwing his small arms around the man's leg.

Silas looked down. He leaned over slightly, his black leather-gloved hand resting on Leo's back. He patted the boy twice. The movement was stiff, almost awkward, but heavily guarded.

Silas straightened up. His gaze returned to Serena. The scrutiny was absolute, filled with naked, murderous intent.

Serena met his stare. She lowered her hands slightly. "I woke up tied to that chair. I am not with him."

Silas did not blink. He tilted his chin up a fraction of an inch. It was a silent command.

Two mercenaries lunged at her.

Serena's body reacted before her brain did. She twisted her torso, narrowly dodging the first man's grasping hands. She grabbed the wrist of the second mercenary, pivoting on her heel, dropping her hips to execute a lethal shoulder throw.

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Silas's eyes.

Before Serena could even complete her throw, Silas struck. In the dim light, his figure, maneuvering his wheelchair, moved like lightning, closing the distance in an instant. He feinted past her defenses, and the edge of his gloved hand struck her hard on the side of her neck, hitting her carotid sinus squarely.

A blinding flash of white light exploded behind Serena's eyes. Nausea surged up her throat. Her knees buckled, and the world went completely black.

Silas caught her limp body with one arm. He looked down at her face, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell of the cheap, smeared makeup on her skin.

He turned to his men. "Give her a localized sedative injection. Make sure she doesn't wake up before we reach the estate," he ordered coldly. "Then put her in the guest room. Lock it down."

The rhythmic thumping of the helicopter rotors faded into a low hum. Serena's consciousness slowly clawed its way back. The dull ache in her neck pulsed with every heartbeat, compounded by the heavy, lingering fog of the chemical sedative in her bloodstream.

She opened her eyes. The room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of a marble fireplace. She was lying on a massive bed covered in high-thread-count silk sheets.

She tried to sit up. A heavy, ice-cold weight shifted under the down comforter near her legs.

Every hair on her arms stood up. Her stomach plummeted. She kept her breathing shallow and slowly pinched the edge of the blanket, pulling it back an inch at a time.

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