Donald filled the entrance effortlessly, his presence radiating authority and danger. His posture was rigid, his shoulders squared, as though he had stepped into the hall prepared for violence. His eyes swept the room in a split second, sharp and calculating, before settling on Ivy and the men advancing toward her. His fists clenched slowly at his sides, tendons standing out beneath his skin. His jaw tightened, and the look in his eyes was deadly. The attackers turned fully to face him now, their initial shock quickly twisting into contempt and anger. Two of them stiffened visibly. They had been there the last time Donald had confronted Thomas and his gang members. Recognition flashed across their faces. “It’s him,” one of them whispered urgently, nudging the man beside him. “The one who attacked Thomas… the same fool,” the other growled, his voice carrying a mixture of fear and rage he failed to fully conceal. Murmurs rippled through the group as the realization spread. One of

As soon as the men left, the hall felt eerily silent. The chaos, the gunfire, and the shouting had stopped, leaving a thick, tense air in its wake. Ivy and her family, along with the friends who had been lucky enough to survive the attack, rushed forward toward Fred’s lifeless body. His blood had pooled around him, staining the polished floor, and the sight sent shivers down every spine present.Ivy fell to her knees beside her father, shaking violently. Her hands clutched at his chest, desperate to feel the rise and fall of a breath that would never come. Her sobs filled the hall, echoing against the high ceilings, and soon, the rest of the family joined her, surrounding Fred in a protective circle. Friends and acquaintances wept openly, some screaming in disbelief, some collapsing to the floor as grief overwhelmed them. The reality of what had just happened was almost impossible to comprehend.“This… this can’t be happening!” Ivy’s mother wailed, clutching her daughter tightly.

“This time,” Thomas said slowly, his voice heavy with authority, “there will be no mistakes.”He paced across the dim concrete room, his boots striking the floor in steady, deliberate steps. Each echo seemed to underline his words, drilling them into the men standing before him. The air was thick with anticipation, mixed with the faint smell of oil and metal.“I don’t want a half-hearted effort,” he continued, stopping briefly before resuming his walk. “I don’t want excuses. I want nothing less than two full bands—twenty-four men in total. Every one of you must be prepared for resistance, confusion, and chaos.”The men exchanged brief glances. No one spoke. They had learned long ago that silence was safer than questions when Thomas spoke in this tone.Thomas halted abruptly and turned to face them. His sharp eyes swept across the room, measuring each man. “DeGrand Corporation is not just a company,” he said. “It is Donald Smith’s fortress. And like every fortress, it has secrets burie

The next morning, Ivy arrived at DeGrand Corporation at precisely the time she had told Donald on the phone. The sun had just begun to rise, spilling pale golden light across the city, casting long shadows along the streets and glinting off the towering glass of her office building. She parked carefully, still feeling the tension from the restless night she had endured, and stepped out of the car, smoothing the crease in her blouse. Almost instinctively, her eyes scanned the entrance—and relief washed over her when she spotted Donald waiting there. Calm, composed, and perfectly at ease, he exuded the kind of presence that could ground anyone, even her. In a world that had recently been chaotic and dangerous, seeing him brought a sense of safety Ivy had longed for but rarely allowed herself to trust fully.She adjusted her posture, squared her shoulders, and walked toward him, a faint smile forming on her lips. “Donald,” she said cheerfully, her voice carrying a note of gratitude

Before long, the door to Ivy’s office burst open with a violent crash that echoed through the room, sharp and thunderous. The sound seemed to split the air in two as the hinges groaned in protest, barely holding as the heavy wooden door slammed hard against the wall. The force of it sent a shudder through the glass windows, and the quiet order of the office was instantly obliterated.Seven men strode in.They were huge-looking, old but powerful, with the kind of presence that immediately sucked the warmth out of the space. Their bodies were thick and solid—broad shoulders stretching the seams of their jackets, thick necks corded with muscle, hands scarred and heavy, fingers that looked as though they had broken bones before and thought nothing of it. Their faces were rough and weathered, etched by years of violence, lawlessness, and a life spent taking rather than asking.Each step they took was deliberate, unhurried, and confident.These were men who had walked into danger countl