That seemingly docile yet actually provocative attitude, along with those inappropriately close gestures, all made him feel stifled inside.
"I recently bought a small house not far from here. If you wish, you can settle him there. We will keep it confidential."
Henry Sheridan said this, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Selene Kane.
He didn’t expect her to accept it; he was just fulfilling a duty.
After all, she was the Female Master of the Alliance.
And he was her Guard Captain.
There were certain boundaries that must be maintained.
Caleb Shaw withdrew his gaze apathetically, showing no interest in these matters.
His eyes moved from Zane’s face to the night scene outside the window.
Yet that Federation uniform on Zane was too glaring.
The uniform had strict distribution rules; non-active personnel were not allowed to wear it unauthorized.
If someone else privately wore the uniform, they would have been subjected to martial law by now.
But now that the Female Master was in charge, he found himself powerless.
He couldn’t question her decision, nor could he embarrass her publicly.
He took a deep breath, regaining his composure.
His fingers tapped lightly twice on his knee.
Then, he lifted his eyes, a calm gaze.
"Alright."
He remained expressionless, his tone cold.
Though his voice was not loud, it caused the entire room to fall silent for a moment.
His entire being exuded an aura that warned strangers to keep away.
Even Selene Kane, usually fearless, occasionally dared not meet his gaze.
Selene Kane’s temples throbbed, and she almost failed to maintain her smile.
Who needed your approval?
They didn’t even ask you!
She forced herself to maintain the curve of her mouth, her gaze shifting back and forth between Caleb Shaw and Zane.
But today, she didn’t want to back down.
"That won’t do, Zane is the male I fancy, and of course, he should live with me."
She still put on that arrogant and domineering female posture, raising her chin, her eyes glancing lazily over.
"If anyone’s to leave, it should be you. We are the truly loving pair."
"Pfft—"
Evan Sinclair burst into laughter on the spot.
He laughed back and forth, clutching his stomach tightly, barely able to breathe, "A female like you talks about true love? A person like you will never be genuinely loved for a lifetime."
"Stop performing here; we won’t even spare you a glance."
His eyes turned cold, with sparks of anger in his pupils.
"Even if you were the last female on earth, we would absolutely not like you."
Selene Kane gently held back the nearly explosive Zane next to her.
She pursed her lips, suppressing amusement, eyes wide and round, exclaiming, "Oh, really?"
"Well, that is really unfortunate; back then, your parents begged me incessantly to bear heirs for you. If you really don’t want to, then we might as well get a divorce."
"You!"
Evan Sinclair’s face turned blue with anger.
All for that so-called offspring and that ridiculous "protect the female" rule.
These past few years, they lived worse than the lowest Beastmen.
No freedom, no dignity.
Every time after getting beaten, he would sneak back home with his younger brother, feet blistered, face battered, clothes stained with blood.
Yet every time, their parents would send them back.
Returning only meant another round of beatings.
Each time more brutal, each time lasting longer.
His father always said, didn’t all males survive this way?
Which male hasn’t taken a few beatings?
Once the female gets tired of beating, her heart will settle, and she will naturally bear children.
This saying circulated vigorously among the tribes; almost every male had heard similar advice.
The elders often said, endure and it will pass, a beating is affection, a scolding is love, they only hit you because they care.
But every time Evan Sinclair was beaten and bruised all over, gasping from the pain whenever he turned over, his heart would chill.
He couldn’t understand why pain wasn’t expressed through care and attention but through whips and fists.
Whenever this thought crossed his mind, Evan Sinclair felt a deep sense of grievance.
He curled up in the corner of the room, leaning against the cold wall, the whip marks on his arm still seeping blood.
When will this kind of life ever end?
He dared not resist, nor dare to escape, only telling himself over and over to endure a bit longer, it would eventually pass.
Ethan Sinclair wanted to persuade Selene Kane to think twice, really not wanting her to recruit newcomers.
The team’s current layout had just stabilized.
Everyone knew their place; suddenly inserting an outsider would only disrupt the balance.
He worried the newcomer wouldn’t understand the rules, causing trouble, and feared Selene Kane acting on a whim.
Transferring resources originally belonging to them all over.
But the words came out all wrong.
"Who does he think he is? To stand on equal footing with us? Only a ruthless female like you would fancy him. The thought of you being our Female Master makes me want to vomit."
The words were harsh; even he found them jarring.
The people around stiffened, and the air instantly turned solid.
Ethan Sinclair’s heart skipped a beat, realizing he had overstepped.
He didn’t mean to be so acerbic, just grew accustomed to speaking that way.
Growing up in a fiercely competitive environment,
He got used to using aggressive language to protect himself, slowly even his care turned into mockery.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Hands hanging by his sides clenched unintentionally.
Fists slightly trembling, knuckles turning white, brows knitted together.
He wanted to explain, to say, "I didn’t mean that."
But his throat felt blocked, not a word could come out.
He stared at Selene Kane, eyes filled with remorse and apprehension.
He knew she had a bad temper, also knew she hated being questioned publicly.
He would rather be beaten himself than see her gaze turn cold.
Seeing Selene Kane’s expression change, he panicked.
Her expression shifted from surprise to calmness.
This change unnerved him.
Just as he sought to rectify the situation, he heard her speak coyly.
"Oh, turns out everyone is unwilling."
She tilted her head, her gaze sweeping across everyone’s face, innocently.
Eyelashes fluttered slightly, the corners of her lips lifted faintly.
Just as people slightly relaxed, some even ready to agree with her, she suddenly laughed.
The laugh was clear, yet made everyone’s spine tingle.
"Since you all call me a bad female, how can I disappoint your expectations?"
Standing up straight, lifting her chin, eyes sharply directed at Henry Sheridan, she directly commanded.
"Your hand is useless now, you can’t paint anymore, let Zane take over the studio. He’s better-looking than me, surely his aesthetics are superior too."
His fingertips trembled, instinctively touching that injured right hand.
Knuckles twisted and misshaped, long incapable of holding a pen.
Once a proud painting skill, now just a joke.
Throat moving up and down, he opened his mouth, yet no sound came out.
After a long silence, he croaked out, "Okay."
Then she turned to Caleb Shaw, her tone light and breezy.
"This uniform looks pretty sharp, it’s just right for Zane to get some training."
She smiled, fingertips lightly tapping on Caleb Shaw’s epaulet.
"Of course, since he’s new, it’s not suitable for him to be a senior officer yet, let him be your assistant first."
Caleb Shaw tightened his lips, his complexion ashen.
In the room, dead silence enveloped, no one dared to make a sound.
"Impossible."
Selene Kane stood in the center of the living room, fingers lightly on the sofa armrest, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.
She had anticipated this outcome, not expecting them to agree immediately.
She just wanted to see their sour faces, to annoy them.
Whether they listened or not was their matter, speaking her mind was satisfying enough.