Marcus Steel still stood beside the table he'd just lifted, his dragon aura beginning to fade back to its dormant state. The phones around the room had stopped recording, their owners staring at the footage they'd just captured with expressions ranging from awe to terror.Atlas Lancaster, barely conscious on the floor, managed to focus enough through his swollen eyes to understand what he'd just witnessed. The table. The impossible strength. The demonstration of power that transcended anything human."You..." Atlas's voice was thick with blood and broken pride. "You're not... normal...""No," Marcus agreed simply. "I'm not."He walked toward the table again, his dragon eyes measuring, calculating. The heavy oak structure sat exactly where he'd placed it—three hundred pounds of solid wood and expensive dishware, totally undisturbed.Atlas watched through his haze of pain and humiliation, something cold beginning to creep up his spine. An instinct older than civilization. Prey recognizi

The four men who approached Marcus Steel moved with the casual confidence of professionals who'd done this hundreds of times before. Their positioning was textbook—flankers maintaining optimal attack angles, the leader controlling center, the shooter hanging back with clear line of sight. In any normal scenario, against any normal target, this would have been over in minutes.But nothing about Marcus Steel was normal."You know," the leader said as they closed the distance, "you're handling this better than most. Usually people beg by now. Or run. You're just standing there like you're waiting for a bus.""I'm appreciating the location," Marcus replied calmly, his dragon eyes scanning the wooded area beside the highway. "Good feng shui. Trees for shade. Quiet. Peaceful. It's a nice spot.""For what?" one of the flankers asked, confusion breaking through his professional demeanor."For burial," Marcus said simply.The men laughed—genuine amusement at what they assumed was bravado from

Pearl on the Water Hotel had transformed overnight into something resembling a military fortress. The elegant entrance—normally welcoming wealthy guests with soft lighting and discrete service—now featured armed security guards in tactical gear, metal detectors at every entrance, and surveillance cameras that tracked every movement within a hundred-yard radius.Miguel Abbott stood at the main gates, his expensive suit rumpled from hours of wearing it without rest, his normally composed expression replaced by barely controlled anxiety. He checked his watch for the hundredth time, then his phone, then scanned the street again."Where the hell are they?" he muttered to Allen, who stood beside him with professional calm despite the chaos."Mr. Steel said twenty minutes for cleanup, then they'd return directly," Allen replied. "It's been eighteen."Miguel's phone buzzed—the twentieth call in the past hour. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. "Malcolm Potter. That's the third time he's c

The Domenico Building stood as a monument to Five-River Province's commercial power—sixty stories of steel and glass dominating the financial district skyline.But tonight, only the forty-third floor was active, its lights blazing while the rest of the building sat dark and empty.The conference room occupied the entire eastern wing of that floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered panoramic views of the city, while the interior featured a massive oval table capable of seating thirty people comfortably.Tonight, twenty-three men sat around that table, each one representing billions in assets and generations of accumulated power.Security was unprecedented. Armed guards stationed at every entrance. Metal detectors. Signal jammers to prevent recording. Electronic sweeps for listening devices.The magnates of Five-River Province had gathered in secret, and they intended to stay that way.At the head of the table sat Richard Lancaster—seventy-two years old, patriarch of the Lancaster Family

The conference room erupted into chaos the moment Maurice Yarrow spoke."You object?" Stanislaus Potter's voice rose to a shout. "Your organization lost billions in ransom payments! Your expansion into Grayson City was blocked! Black Wind Bar—your most profitable entertainment venue—was shut down permanently! And you object to unified action against the man responsible?"Maurice remained seated, his expression calm despite the hostile stares boring into him from around the table. "I object to rushing into a war without understanding what we're fighting.""What we're fighting is obvious!" Cesar Pendleton slammed his hand on the table. "Marcus Steel is a terrorist who's attacking established power structures! He needs to be eliminated!""Eliminated by whom?" Maurice asked quietly. "You, Cesar? You've tried already. How did that work out for you?"Cesar's face flushed crimson. "That was different! I was unprepared! Caught off guard! If I'd known what he was capable of—""You would have w