Apocalypse : Transmigrated With Milf System-Chapter 32: Negotiation - 2

The reception room was colder tonight.

Shadows flickered against the steel walls, dancing in the light of the moon hanging in the sky.

A woman moved like a blade wrapped in silk—graceful, lethal, and impossible to ignore.

Her figure was a sculpted testament to power and poise: long, toned legs that carried her with unhurried confidence,

a narrow waist that emphasized the natural curve of her hips, and a backside that swayed with quiet ripeness—plump, perfectly shaped,

the kind of ass that spoke of both discipline and indulgence.

Her breasts were full and high, mature and heavy with that sensual weight only age and confidence bestow, always cradled in tight, elegant fabrics that hinted rather than revealed.

At her right stood Elara, composed but tense.

Behind her, Ruel sat still in the low armchair, his eyes fixed on nothing and everything at once. Unmoving. Like a storm that hadn't decided when to break.

He leaned forward, eyes locked on to Alena's fake majesty "I see a woman pretending she still rules a united house... when in truth, it's already burning in three separate fires." he concluded lazily.

Then

Alena finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of pride swallowed for necessity.

"We need your help," she said, quiet and deliberate. "The base... it's broken. Two powers pulling it in different directions. "

"Their treatment to me and my poeple are becoming worse day by day. Now they had even threatend my comatose husband's life. I can't let it low any longer.

"The longer it drags, the more blood will spill." ƒгeewёbnovel.com

No reply.

Her gaze dropped for a moment. "I control a third. Fatty has another, with most of the militant force under his thumb. "

She stepped closer. "You're powerful. Ruthless. I don't know what you are, but I know what you can do. Help me unify the base. Subdue the others. Bring them under one banner—mine."

At that, he stirred.

Ruel looked up, slowly.

Alena hesitated, then continued, "I'll give you names. People who need to be put in place. Fatty. Lysa. Their—"

Ruel raised a hand. One simple, quiet gesture.

Then he spoke.

"I don't like hearing dead men's names," he said coldly. "Just bring them to me... and I'll have their heads."

The words hung heavy in the air, iron sharp.

Alena stiffened. "No. I'm not asking you to kill them. Just subdue them. Break their chains, not their throats."

"They are useful to me in long run"

The moment she said it, the air changed.

A cold, suffocating pressure filled the room, as if the walls themselves had been caught in a vice. Her breath hitched.

She turned slowly—and saw it.

Ruel's eyes.

Not angry. Not wild. Clear. Too clear. Cold and exact, like a scalpel just before it cuts.

"You don't get to order on what I do and don't do," he said, voice low, dangerous. "If you beg me to act... you don't get to tell me how to act."

He stood.

"Remember your place," he said. "Don't cross your line."

Alena couldn't speak—her lips parted slightly, but the words were drowned in the storm of his presence.

Ruel turned toward the door, then stopped.

"Bring them to me. Tomorrow," he said. "I don't care how. That's your problem."

Just as he reached for the door handle, Alena found her voice, though faint.

"What... do you want in return?"

He turned halfway. Their eyes met.

Ruel's smile was subtle. Cruel. Hungry.

"Don't worry," he said, voice deep and smooth. "I get to choose that, and you can't deny it."

And with that, he turned fully, walking off into the corridor.

But he didn't go far.

"Elara," he called out casually, voice now laced with arrogant amusement.

Elara, who had been quietly standing guard nearby, jolted to attention.

"Pick me some of your new clothes," he said. "Bigger the size... the better."

Elara flushed, then turned and hurried off toward her room, Ruel following at a comfortable, lazy pace—like a lion stalking prey that had already surrendered.

Back in the room, Alena stood frozen, staring at the door he had left through.

The weight of his last words clawed at her.

"I'll take it myself."

She clenched her fists slightly.

"...What did he mean by that?" she whispered to herself.

Her eyes narrowed with unease.I hope... it's nothing excessive.

------ Hallway Outside the Chamber -------

As Elara walked briskly beside Ruel, her voice was low and tight.

"You're playing a dangerous game."

"I live for dangerous games," he replied, eyes gleaming. "Besides, Alena doesn't want loyalty—she wants results. And pain."

Elara stopped, grabbing his arm. "Listen to me ruel... If.. if you go too far... if you turn this base into your personal playground—she will turn on you."

He stepped closer, their faces inches apart.

"Then let her," he whispered. "I like it when they scream."

She flinched, just slightly—but her grip didn't loosen.

"And when the base falls apart?"

He smiled, almost fondly. "Then, i will just take you away"

-

The hallway was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of Elara's boots echoing lightly across the floor.

Ruel followed at a slow, almost lazy pace behind her, his eyes never leaving her back—studying the sway of her hips, the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her fingers occasionally clenched at her sides.

She was tense. Trying not to be. Trying to seem composed.

He liked that.

The room she led him to was modestly decorated, but feminine—hints of velvet lining, a full-body mirror, and several neatly stacked crates of fresh uniforms and civilian wear meant for base officers.

"This way," Elara said softly, motioning toward the open wardrobe. "These were delivered yesterday. Madam Alena hasn't chosen anything yet. You... wanted something for your woman?"

Ruel didn't answer right away. He stepped past her, fingers dragging lightly over a folded silk piece on the nearby table.

He turned to face her. Smirked lewdly.

"Hmm... you're about her height," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "But I need to know if it fits in the same way."

Elara blinked, confused. "In... what way?"

He didn't respond. Just closed the distance.

His hand slid along her waist, slow and deliberate.

"I measure things... differently," he whispered.

And then he pushed her back against the mirror—not violently, but with force enough to remind her that resistance was pointless. Not that she gave any.

Elara gasped, caught off-guard, her breath shallow.

"Wait—what are you—"

He silenced her with a kiss—not gentle, not sweet, but possessive.

Testing. Like a ruler measuring a line. His hands ran over her thighs, then under them, lifting her onto the dressing bench without asking.

"You're Mei Feng's size," he muttered, lips brushing her ear. "But I want to know if you feel the same. If the way you take me... is how she might."

Elara's eyes widened.

"What...?"

But her protest came out breathless, not defiant.

She knew what he was.

She knew his presence overwhelmed logic.

She knew she could stop him, say no, push back.

But she didn't.

Her body betrayed her again—just like the first time.

Her thighs tensed around his hips, not to push him away... but to hold him there.

"You said everything with your body last night," he said flatly. "Don't try to lie with your mouth now."

She swallowed hard. Her silence was enough.