Ryan froze for a split second as the scene in front of him burned in his mind —the three drunken men towering over Zenith, her weak frame pinned against the couch, tears streaking her pale cheeks.
He didn't need any more details to understand what was happening there —what those men were trying to do. And the very realization made something snap inside him.
The next second, the air in the room turned razor sharp. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. His entire presence radiated lethal rage. Stepping inside, his voice thundered —low, clipped, and filled with such dangerous authority that even in their drunken stupor, the men faltered.
"Get. Away. From. Her."
Two of them instinctively stepped back, their smirks faltering. But the one holding Zenith down didn't move. His hand still gripped her arms, his body poised to press against her.
"CEO Foster, it will be fun. Why don't you join —"
