Thought the month

For a month, Lara Croft lived in the shadows of the city, studying, planning, and failing.

She had spent weeks gathering intelligence on Viktor Engel, the German billionaire who ran everything in this country—from the politicians in their ivory towers to the cartels that controlled the streets. He was more than just a businessman; he was a king in his own right, untouchable, dangerous, and utterly ruthless.

And she had tried to rob him.

The heist had been her biggest mistake yet.

Lara had infiltrated Viktor’s fortified mansion, hidden deep in the hills above the city, where armed guards patrolled with military precision. It wasn’t just a mansion—it was a fortress. But Lara was the best, and she had done her research.

She had slipped in through a second-story window, bypassing the security lasers and silencing the cameras using a stolen security code. She moved like a ghost, her black bodysuit hugging every curve as she navigated the lavish halls, ducking behind statues, her heart pounding with the thrill of the hunt.

She was after a safe.

Not the Artefact of the Moon God itself, but a ledger—a black book of names, transactions, and locations. Everything she needed to know about Viktor’s empire, hidden in a vault deep within his personal study.

She had made it past the guards, past the alarms, past the high-tech security doors.

And then… she failed.

The moment she cracked the final lock, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

She wasn’t alone.

"Took you long enough."

A voice—smooth, confident, laced with amusement.

Lara spun, only to feel something sharp against her throat. A knife.

Then a hand—large, strong—gripped her wrist and twisted, forcing her to drop her lockpicking tool. She tried to fight back, but they were faster. Stronger. More prepared.

The next few seconds were a blur of fists, elbows, and dodges—she managed to break free, twisting away with a powerful kick—but they weren’t ordinary guards. They were trained. Mercenaries.

One of them grabbed her from behind.

She elbowed him in the ribs, twisted her body, and used her legs to flip him over her shoulder—but another snatched her midair, slamming her against a marble pillar.

She barely had time to gasp before a third attacker appeared. A woman.

Tall, raven-haired, German—her emerald eyes glittering with amusement.

"Impressive," she purred. "But not impressive enough."

A swift strike to Lara’s gut stole her breath. Before she could react, they pinned her against the desk, securing her wrists behind her back with a cold, metallic snap.

Cuffs.

Her cheeks flushed with rage. She struggled, but the cuffs were tight, the guards’ grip unyielding.

The woman smirked, running a gloved hand over Lara’s spine, taking her time.

"You thought you were the hunter, didn’t you?" she whispered, leaning in close, her lips brushing Lara’s ear. "You should’ve known better."

Then, the door opened.

And in walked Viktor Engel himself.

The Lesson: His One Weakness

She had miscalculated everything.

She had thought she was two steps ahead. Instead, she had walked right into his trap.

But Lara wasn’t broken. She had lost a battle—not the war.

Because in the days after, she came to a single, inescapable conclusion.

Viktor was too powerful to take down with ****. His men were too skilled for her usual tricks.

But he had one weakness.

His cock.

Lara had seen the way he looked at women, the way he collected them like trophies, but never let them truly control him. He was a king who took what he wanted—but he had never met a queen who could take him instead.

So, she would change her strategy.

She would get closer.

She would let him think he was the one in control.

And then?

She would own him.

For the rest of the month, Lara and Lucía kept each other warm at night, but during the day, Lara prepared for the most dangerous seduction of her life.

And when the time came, she would not fail.