Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 157

Chapter 157: Madison: My Ride or Die

Madison slid into the police car beside me like she was crossing into enemy territory without a translator.

The girl who could usually walk into a cocktail party full of hedge fund predators and make them purr suddenly looked like she’d stumbled into a Kafka novel. Honestly? It was adorable watching her try to pretend she wasn’t panicking.

"You know," she began, her voice way too bright to be natural, "this whole thing is very Dead Poets Society of you. Standing up to authority, dramatic consequences, inspiring others to seize the day through violence."

I turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Madison, I’m pretty sure Robin Williams wasn’t advocating for caving in the skulls of pedophiles in his inspirational monologues."

"Okay, bad example." She fiddled with her phone like it might conjure a better reference out of pure desperation. "What about The Karate Kid? You know—defending yourself from bullies? Except instead of a tournament, it’s... administrative violence in an office setting."

Through my earbuds, ARIA’s voice carried a note of obvious amusement: "Your girlfriend appears to be experiencing a psychological collapse disguised as film criticism, Master."

No shit, ARIA. Think she’ll work her way through the entire action movie catalog before we reach the station?

"There’s a 73% probability she’ll reference Taken within the next two minutes."

I almost smiled despite the handcuffs biting into my wrists. "Madison, I don’t think Mr. Miyagi would approve of my technique. Pretty sure ’wax on, wax off’ doesn’t translate to ’collapse lung, crack jaw.’"

"Fine, fine." Her voice was edging toward frantic now. "What about John Wick? Guy’s family gets threatened, he goes on a systematic rampage—everyone understands his motivation. Very relatable emotional core."

"John Wick’s dog died. I beat up a vice principal. Slightly different tragedy scale there, babe."

"But the principle is the same!" she insisted, her words starting to sound more like a lifeline than an argument. "Someone you love gets hurt, you do whatever it takes to protect them. The audience always roots for the protector, right? Right?"

She was looking at me like if I said no, the whole thin thread holding her composure together would snap.

She’s not trying to convince me this isn’t insane, I thought, watching her grip her phone until her knuckles whitened. She’s trying to convince herself.

I could see it in the way her hands trembled slightly, how her voice carried that edge of panic she was trying to hide. Madison Torres, who’d grown up believing money could solve any problem, was facing her first real crisis where Daddy’s checkbook might not be enough.

"What about A Time to Kill?" she continued, desperate territory fully engaged now. "Father protects his daughter from predators, legal system grapples with justified violence, courtroom drama, everyone gets it—"

"Madison," I said, voice gentler than it had any right to be, blood still under my fingernails, knuckles screaming in memory, "you’re spiraling."

Her shoulders slumped, the air leaving her like a balloon with a slow leak. "I know. I just... I’ve never been in a police car before. I’ve never had someone I care about get arrested for felony assault. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say."

’There it is. The real fear underneath all the Hollywood bullshit,’ I noted silently, and the thought made my pulse steady rather than spike.

"You’re supposed to be exactly what you’re being," I told her, shifting slightly in the handcuffs so she could hear me clearly. "Yourself. Even if that means badly comparing my situation to revenge fantasies."

Her laugh came then, small and genuine, and I watched some of the panic leak out of her shoulders. Still tense, still worried, but at least she wasn’t hyperventilating through movie plots anymore.

’Absolutely. This is gold. File it under Madison’s Greatest Panic Attacks.’

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