All Chapters of They Will All Bow To Me!: Chapter 61
- Chapter 70
76 chapters
Chapter 61
“What do you mean?” Michael asked, keeping his voice level despite the sudden tension in the air. Adrian maintained his easy smile. “Oh, come on,” He said lightly. “With the way you spoke earlier… I think you’re way too smart to be confused by my question.” His smile faded inch by inch, leaving behind a cold glare. “Why are you here?” Michael swallowed. He forced his shoulders to relax, “Well, I couldn’t help myself. Knowing that the great Blackwood chandelier was right around the corner from where I was staying… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to see it with my own eyes.” Adrian chuckled, low and amused. “You see, I almost believed you.” Before Michael could respond, Adrian snapped his fingers. The sound echoed sharply through the vast room. Two guards emerged from the shadows, dragging someone between them. The figure was thrown forward and hit the marble floor hard. Michael’s heart lurched. “Barry.” He breathed. Barry coughed, lifting his head with effort. There was a
Chapter 62
Michael and Barry recognized the man immediately. He was the same brute Michael had defeated months ago, the one whose reign over the underground pit had ended with blood on the floor and Michael standing victorious. Back then, the man had sworn through broken teeth that he would remember Michael’s face. Now he was here. Barry let out a short, incredulous laugh. “It’s you.” He said, rolling his shoulders as he raised his fists. “Back for more?” The man’s eyes burned with hatred. He didn’t answer. He charged. There was no warning or buildup, just raw momentum as the massive body surged forward like a freight train. Michael reacted instantly. “Move!” He shouted. Both of them split apart at the same time. The man thundered between them and slammed straight into a wine shelf. Glass exploded outward, bottles shattering as red liquid splashed across the marble floor like spilled blood. Adrian clapped his hands together, laughter echoing through the vast hall. “Woah! What a start!” H
Chapter 63
Their eyes moved at the same time, drawn toward the far end of the main room. A hooded figure stood beneath the towering shadows of the chandelier, half-hidden between marble pillars and expensive drapery. The silence that followed felt heavy. Adrian’s lips curved upward. “Ah,” He said lazily, clapping once. “There he is.” The hooded figure stepped forward. Each step echoed through the vast room, boots striking the polished marble with slow certainty. When he reached the center, he raised both hands and pulled back the hood. Michael’s stomach dropped. The man was massive. Not just tall, but wide, his shoulders broad enough to block out parts of the chandelier’s glow. Thick scars ran across his face and neck, some old and faded, others still angry and raised. His eyes were dull, empty of emotion, like he had already decided how this would end. Adrian’s voice rang out, delighted. “Michael. Barry. Allow me to introduce you properly.” He gestured grandly. “This is Mountain.” Mou
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Michael’s fingers dug into the fractured marble. The pain was everywhere, his ribs were screaming, his shoulder was burning, his lungs barely pulling in air, but beneath it, something else stirred. The memory of Celia’s voice didn’t fade, it anchored him. Mountain’s shadow loomed over him, massive a d final. The giant flexed his hand once, knuckles cracking, already certain this was over. But Michael laughed. It was low at first, rough, dragged out of his chest like broken glass. Then it steadied. That sound alone made Mountain pause. Adrian straightened on the balcony. “Oh?” Michael planted one knee, then the other. His movements were slow, deliberate, not rushed, not desperate. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and looked up at Mountain, eyes sharp now, burning with focus rather than rage. “I told you…” He said hoarsely, “Losing isn’t an option.” Mountain frowned. He charged. This time, Michael didn’t meet him head-on. Mountain’s fist tore through the
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The next morning came quietly, almost deceptively so. The long dining table inside the Blackwood mansion was already filled, polished wood reflecting the pale winter light filtering through tall windows. Steam rose from untouched cups of coffee. Plates sat full, food growing cold. Barry and Michael’s seats were empty. Jace leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, irritation written plainly across his face. “Unbelievable.” He muttered. “They really picked today of all days to sleep in? We’re in enemy territory, not a vacation lodge.” No one laughed. Celia kept glancing toward the doors, unease settling deeper with every passing second. “They would’ve told us if they were leaving early.” She said, more to herself than anyone else. “Something’s not right.” Jace scoffed. “Or they’re just too comfortable. Ever since Michael started winning nonstop, he’s been-” “That’s enough.” Mira cut in coolly, though her gaze was fixed on the far end of the room. Adrian Blackwood sat the
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“Oh… so that’s what happened.” Celia said quietly. They were gathered in the living room, Michael and Barry had just finished recounting everything that had unfolded inside the Blackwood mansion. From the ambush to the threat to every calculated smile Adrian had worn while holding their lives in his hands. By the time Michael fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Jace was the first to break it. “You know.” He said, leaning forward with a scoff, “You could’ve at least woken me up. I would’ve liked to join the fight.” Michael blinked. Barry slowly turned to look at him. “…Join?” He repeated, incredulous. Michael rubbed his temple. “Jace, we were dragged into a death match under sniper fire.” He said flatly. “Guards. Guns. Three men built like trucks.” Barry let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, sure. Next time we’ll politely ask them to pause the execution so we can come get you.” Jace opened his mouth, then shut it. “…Okay. Fair.” Celia exhaled shakily, folding her arms to grou
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Two weeks passed, and instead of things settling down, they only grew worse. Barry and Jace fought constantly. It wasn’t loud arguments every time, sometimes it was sharp looks, clipped words, doors slammed just a little too hard. Other times, it exploded into full-blown shouting matches that left the air thick and sour. Michael tried everything. He talked to them separately, then together. He reminded them of the mission, of everything they had survived. He warned them, pleaded with them, even snapped at them once or twice when his patience finally ran thin. Nothing worked. Every time it seemed like they might cool off, Mira would appear, leaning too close to Barry, laughing too softly, touching his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Jace would see it, his jaw would tighten, and whatever fragile peace existed would shatter again. Michael could feel it draining him. His plans stalled. His thoughts scattered. Their next move, crucial, dangerous, and carefully
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Celia’s scream cut through the house like a blade. Michael had been halfway down the hall when he heard it. For a split second, his mind refused to process the sound. Then instinct took over. He ran. He burst into the kitchen to a scene that made his blood run cold. The pot lay tipped over on the floor, its contents spread across the tiles in a steaming mess. The sharp smell of heat and spices burned the air. Celia was on the ground, clutching her arm, her body shaking violently as she cried out in pain. Her skin was already turning red, angry blisters beginning to rise where the hot liquid had splashed her. Barry and Jace stood frozen on either side of her, the spice jar shattered at their feet. For half a second, Michael didn’t move. Then rage unlike anything he had felt before surged through him. “What the hell did you do?” He roared. Both men flinched. Michael crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside Celia. “Hey, hey, look at me.” He said, his voice
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A soft knock echoed through the room. Celia stirred, her thoughts pulling away from the dull ache in her arm. “Come in.” She said quietly. The door opened, and Michael stood there for a moment, one hand resting on the frame. His expression was unreadable, guarded, as though he were bracing himself. Then he stepped aside. Barry and Jace stood behind him. Celia blinked in surprise. Barry was the first to step in. He looked uncomfortable, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense. Jace followed more slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor. The three men stopped just inside the room, the air thick with unspoken words. Michael stayed near the door, arms crossed, watching. “I… uh,” Barry started, then stopped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “We’re sorry, Celia. Really sorry.” Jace lifted his head. His voice was quiet, strained. “What happened was our fault. No excuses. We lost control.” Celia sat up slightly, careful of her injured arm. She studied their faces, the gu
Chapter 70
As more information about Monica Rivera came in, Michael found himself leaning deeper into his chair, listening with an interest that surprised even him. “Favorite color is green.” Barry said, scrolling through notes on his phone. “Not the flashy kind. Forest green. Calm stuff.” “She loves cats.” Jace added. “Rescues them, actually. Funds shelters quietly. No press.” Michael hummed softly. “That already tells me more than most boardroom profiles ever could.” Barry nodded. “She’s… Normal. Easygoing. Polite to staff. Doesn’t look down on people.” “And here’s the big one.” Jace continued, lowering his voice. “The totem. She keeps it on her at all times.” Michael’s gaze sharpened. “On her?” “Yeah.” Barry said. “Wears it around her neck. Looks like a simple brooch, old design, family heirloom. Most people don’t even notice it.” Michael stood and walked slowly across the room. “That means no vault. No guards rotating shifts. No breaking and entering.” “But it also means we can’t t