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.

sobering up quickly from the shock, yelled at the

you? Even brought a fancy boy to mess

Thalassa too, dragging them both towards

were thrown inside, their hands and feet swiftly bound with ropes prepared in advance, and duct tape sealed their

to back, Thalassa and Hertha struggled against their bindings, unable to utter a

in an attempt to scream for help,

against the ropes in vain, unable to break

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

a fetish for beautiful hair, he was

head, he sneered with distaste, "Dammit, a baldie?