Chapter 71: The War Queen Awakens

Sebastian caught the movement in his peripheral vision.

The man lunged.

Her scream split the air.

One of his security guards burst through the door, gun raised… but hesitated as Sebastian stood directly in the line of fire. There was no clean shot.

And then…

Something shifted inside him.

Sebastian Remington had always been a strategist. A commander. He gave orders. Others executed them. His body was maintained for appearance, for mental clarity; never for combat.

He had never fought, not even when he was bullied.

But in that instant…

Time fractured. He saw things he never saw before.

The attacker’s stride was too long. There was a loose wire across the floor, nearly invisible. At that speed, he would trip.

And when he fell…

The blade would arc downward… and straight toward her.

Sebastian saw it with terrifying clarity. The trajectory. The angle. The inevitability.

What had just happened in seconds… What would happen in the next two… He knew.

And before his mind could finish the calculation… His body moved.

He seized the metal rod resting against the table, twisted sharply, and stepped into motion. The man’s boot caught the wire. He stumbled. The rod came down.

A sickening crack echoed as metal slammed into the attacker’s wrist. The box cutter flew from his grip, skidding across the floor.

The man crashed forward… And Sebastian’s polished shoe drove down. Hard. Right on the back of his head.

The man’s forehead struck the concrete with a dull, final thud.

Silence.

The entire exchange had taken less than three seconds.

Sebastian stood there, chest heaving. The rod trembled slightly in his hand. The attacker lay unconscious at his feet.

He had never moved like that before. Never reacted without thought.

His security rushed forward, forming a shield around him.

Sebastian stepped aside automatically.

But his eyes…

His eyes went back to her. The woman in the chair.

The scream had died on her lips. Her glasses were slightly crooked now. Her breathing uneven. But she wasn’t looking at the unconscious man. She was looking at him.

Not afraid.

Not grateful.

Something else.

Something stirred low in Sebastian’s bloodstream.

Heat.

Possession.

Curiosity.

His jaw tightened.

Bernice Watson. Who are you?

The door burst open.

Maximilian strode in just as Sebastian let the metal rod fall from his grip.

“What happened here?” Maximilian’s voice cut through the room, sharp and controlled.

Security men were restraining the attacker. Another was securing the others against the wall.

Without looking, Maximilian’s hand came up instinctively, pressing lightly against Catherine’s waist, holding her back.

Protecting her.

Catherine, however, leaned sideways to see past him. Her gaze landed on the woman tied to the chair.nHer eyes widened.

“Bernice?”

Before either man could react, Catherine shoved Maximilian’s arm aside and walked straight toward the chair.

Bernice’s eyes grew round. “Dr. Preston—”

“What are you doing here?” Catherine demanded.

There was no warmth in her tone. No indulgent fondness she reserved for her favorite intern. Only sharp reprimand. Maternal. Furious.

“You know her?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Catherine didn’t look at him. She stared at Bernice.

“Do I, Bernice?”

Bernice lowered her head. “Dr. Preston, I—”

“I told you to stay safe!” Catherine’s voice cracked like a whip in the confined room.

Even Sebastian took an unconscious step back. His gaze flickered to Maximilian, one brow lifting slightly — Explain?

Maximilian tilted his head faintly, deferring. This was Catherine’s battlefield.

Catherine’s eyes shifted to the men tied against the wall.

“Who are they?”

The security team stiffened, visibly displeased that she was questioning their operation.

Sebastian answered smoothly. “We found them hovering around her. Does she work with them?”

His men fell silent immediately. Catherine studied the four restrained men. Then, slowly, her lips curved. Not sweet. Not kind.

Dangerous.

She bent and picked up the rod Sebastian had dropped earlier. Sebastian’s eyes sharpened. Maximilian’s chest rose slowly.

Catherine walked toward the men, tapping the rod lightly against her palm, her heels clicking against the floor.

“Who’s going to talk first?”

The metallic sound echoed softly.

Maximilian stepped closer to her. Not stopping her. Just near. Close enough to intervene. Close enough to shield.

“They’re here for her,” Maximilian said calmly, nodding toward Bernice.

Bernice blinked in confusion. “Me?”

Sebastian’s attention didn’t leave Catherine.

He was studying her now.

This version of her was cold, commanding, and untouchable.

“Are you going to talk,” Catherine continued, stepping closer to the men, “or do I need to persuade you?”

One of the men swallowed. “She hired us. Said to follow her closely and act when she asked.” He pointed at Bernice.

Silence fell.

Catherine let out a soft laugh. Not amused. Calculated. She angled the rod under the man’s chin, lifting his face slightly. “How much?”

The men exchanged glances.

Catherine’s smile deepened. “I’ll pay double.”

No response.

She tilted her head.

“Triple.”

This time, her eyes darkened. Because she already suspected whose men they were. She just needed them to say it. To give her the name.

Maximilian watched her profile — the steel in her gaze, the merciless intelligence behind it. She was still wearing the soft, flowing dress she had waltzed in not long ago… but now she looked like a queen in armor.

Sebastian watched the way Maximilian hovered close to her. Not restraining. Not interfering.

Just ready.

Both men understood something in that moment. Catherine Preston was not a woman to be cornered. And if someone was targeting Bernice…

They were testing Catherine.

Catherine turned calmly to Sebastian. “Do you have a breaking wheel in your dungeon?” she asked.

Silence.

Sebastian blinked. “My… what?”

“The rack? Iron maiden? Anything?” she continued, perfectly serious.

Four restrained men stiffened.

Sebastian swallowed. “This is a mansion. Not a medieval fortress.”

Catherine exhaled in disappointment. “Do you at least have rats?”

The room went dead quiet.

“Rats?” Sebastian repeated carefully.

“Yes. A cage. Or even a saucepan will do.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “You place the rat against the stomach, apply heat to the base… survival instinct does the rest.”

One of the tied men let out a broken sound.

“The rat digs inward,” Catherine added mildly. “They always choose flesh over flame.”

The four men were trembling now.

“Who would like to volunteer?” she asked sweetly, stepping closer.

“Dr. Preston…” one of the security guards began weakly, “that’s not… ethical.”

Catherine slowly turned her head.

“Not ethical?” she echoed. Her tone was dangerously soft.

“How gentle this world has become,” she murmured. “No wonder villains grow so bold.”

Maximilian covered his mouth, but he wasn’t shocked. He was fighting a smile.

Sebastian, on the other hand, looked like he was reassessing the last twenty-four hours of his life.

Catherine sighed again.

“Fine. No rats. No medieval devices.” She rolled her shoulders once, loosening them.

“Do you at least waterboard? No?” She shook her head. “You expect criminals to confess because you ask nicely?”

The guards looked everywhere except at her.

“Cowards,” she muttered.

Then…

She stepped forward.

Her grip on the metal rod adjusted — clean, controlled. She didn’t swing wildly. She struck.

A sharp crack echoed in the room.

One man collapsed sideways, blood trickling from his temple.

Not dead.

But broken.

Bernice gasped. Sebastian’s eyes widened, not at the violence, but at her precision.

Catherine stepped aside calmly as a thin line of blood crept toward her heels. She did not flinch.

Maximilian’s hands had clenched into fists. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t horrified.

He was holding back something far more complicated.

Catherine pointed the rod lazily at the next man.

Then the last.

Then paused.

Finally, she aimed at the man in the center. “You,” she said.

He shut his eyes, bracing.

She lifted the rod… and swung.

Her rod struck the man at the far end instead.

“Oops,” she said lightly. “Changed my mind.”

The man in the center broke. He crumpled to his knees before she could even step closer.

“I’ll tell you! Renfield!” he choked. “Ashley Renfield!”

Silence flooded the room.

Catherine’s lips curved slowly.

Cold.

Satisfied.

“Of course, it’s her.”

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