The Billionaire's Secret Quartet

Hertha was on a bender, staggering down the street while belting out a tune, a scene straight out of a late-night bar crawl.

The neon lights painted them in surreal colors as traffic lights flickered by, a vibrant dance against the city's bustling night and its chilling embrace. Suddenly, their world of neon was shadowed by two looming figures, their presence blotting out even the drunken clarity from their eyes. Thalassa and Hertha sensed the oddity and looked up, only to find a burly figure, his arms inked with a dragon tattoo, blocking their path. The man's gaze was menacing, his face rugged and shadowed by a thick beard, the very picture of a thug.

This intimidating face seemed oddly familiar.

Hertha, through her haze of alcohol, pointed at the man obstructing their way and slurred, "Buddy, you're in our way," her body swaying unsteadily.

The burly man grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him with a yank, and she collided against his broad, meaty frame.

Hertha felt a wave of disgust and was about to resist when the man twisted her arm behind her back, trapping her neck in his grip.

up quickly from the shock, yelled at the man, attempting to

you could escape last time, did you? Even brought a

that, he grabbed Thalassa too, dragging them both

bound with ropes prepared in advance, and duct tape sealed their

struggled against their

sobering up, writhed in an attempt to scream

Hertha's terror, fighting against the

asphalt road, the open windows sending their hair into disarray, Hertha's wig flying off in the chaos. Arriving at a motel, the burly man parked and prepared to unload his captives, only to discover one of them was

he was

Hertha's bald head, he sneered with distaste, "Dammit, a baldie?