2025-12-22 16:51:54
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Chris turned to Ethan, disappointment burning in his eyes. “I welcomed you into my home,” he said coldly. “I allowed you near my father out of respect for your name. And this is how you repay it? By sowing fear and insulting the man trying to save him?” Ethan stared at him. “Chris, listen to me. I would never—” “No,” Chris cut in sharply. “You will listen to me.” He took a breath, steadying himself, but his voice remained hard. “I did not allow you into this house to cause chaos. I did not bring you here to disrupt my father’s treatment with wild accusations and… supernatural nonsense.” Morrison folded his arms, a thin, satisfied smile creeping back onto his face. “Exactly,” he said smoothly. “Grief and desperation often drive men to delusion.” Ethan’s fists clenched. “You’re blind,” he said quietly. “Both of you. That thing inside him—” “Stop,” Chris said flatly. “Every word you say further proves my mistake.” He turned toward Morrison. “Doctor, please continue. Do not let thi
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Morrison’s eyes swept over Ethan with thinly veiled disdain, as if the very presence of another adult male in the room were an inconvenience to his attention.Chris cleared his throat and held out a folder. “Dr. Morrison, did you get the latest medical report?”Morrison took it with a practiced motion, scanning the pages with a raised brow. “I don’t need the latest report to know Mr. Hadel’s condition,” he said smoothly, almost with a sigh, as if the answer were obvious. “I’ve studied him thoroughly. I’ve devised a treatment that will work.”Chris’s eyes lit up with hope. “A treatment?”“Yes,” Morrison said, voice firm and confident, almost theatrical. “I have developed a cell-repair serum—cutting-edge, experimental, revolutionary. When injected, it will repair damaged cells, restore vitality, and allow Mr. Hadel to recover fully.”Chris’s face broke into a wide smile. “That… that’s incredible! You truly are the city’s finest.”Ethan remained silent, his mind ticking. Something about
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“Ethan,” Chris began, still holding his shoulders lightly, “I want you to understand… what you ask is… complicated.” Ethan tilted his head, sensing the shift. “Complicated?” he repeated cautiously. “I need allies. The Watsons are mobilizing. If we do not act now, everything—everything our families built—will crumble. I am offering you the chance to stand together. To honor the Storm legacy.” Chris stepped back, releasing Ethan’s shoulders. The warmth had gone, replaced with a cold formality. “You misunderstand me, Ethan,” he said, voice tight, carefully measured. “I am glad you have returned. I do not deny your blood, nor the history you carry. But I cannot—will not—risk my house in a war with the Watsons.” Seeing Ethan’s deception, he quickly add, “our house… is too weak,” he said, the words heavy with careful caution. “My father… John… is gravely ill. I cannot risk my people in open conflict while he remains in this state.” Ethan nodded slowly, keeping his expression calm. “I
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“Take him out,” the patriarch ordered. “He is not welcome. The Storms are finished. You are nothing to us.” Ethan struggled, trying one last time to reach them. “Listen to me! I am Storm! I am one of you! The family still lives in me! I will not be ignored!” The guard shoved him hard. Ethan stumbled. “Hold him!” another barked. The next shove sent him crashing against the hall doors. Pain flared, but his eyes remained locked on the Saler patriarch. “You think this ends with a shove?” Ethan growled, teeth gritted. The patriarch’s face was stone. “Your family is dead. You are nothing here. Out. Now.” A pair of guards forced him forward. Ethan struggled, but the combined weight of numbers was too much. The doors swung open. Ethan stumbled outside, dust kicking up around his boots. He looked back once. The hall shimmered in golden lamplight. The faces of those who once should have been allies stared back with disbelief, shock, and finality. “Impossible…” someone wh
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Outside, the cold night air cut through the heat still clinging to Ethan’s skin.He stood beneath a flickering streetlight, neon glow fading behind him, and pulled out his phone.For a moment, he stared at the screen.This is the moment, he thought. If I don’t move now, the gathering becomes a trap I can’t escape.He dialed.The call connected on the first ring.“Young master.”The voice was old. Calm. Steeped in loyalty that hadn’t faded with time.Ethan closed his eyes briefly. “I ran into Michael Watson.”A sharp pause.“…Alive?”“Barely.”Another pause—this one heavier.“I asked him for informations about the Watson family, and he gave me a valuable one,” Ethan continued. “The Watson family is holding a major gathering next week. Elders. Enforcers. Hunters. Everyone.”The voice exhaled slowly.“I won’t walk into that alone,” Ethan said. “The Watsons are too entrenched. Too prepared. I need allies—Storm allies. Who’s left?”Silence stretched, then—“The world forgot the Storm famil
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Ethan rolled his shoulders slowly.“No,” he said. “You terrorize it.”Michael roared and lunged.Too slow.Ethan sidestepped, grabbed Michael’s arm, and twisted—hard.Another crack echoed.Michael screamed again, collapsing to one knee.“AAH—MY ARM!”Ethan didn’t stop.He drove a knee into Michael’s ribs once.Twice.A third time.Michael coughed violently, blood spraying onto the floor.People backed away in horror.“He’s killing him!”“No—no one stop him!”“Are you insane? That’s a Watson!”Ethan hauled Michael up by the hair, forcing him to look up.Michael’s arrogance was gone now.Only fear remained.“You… you don’t understand…” Michael rasped. “My family—”Ethan slammed his fist into Michael’s face again.CRACK.Michael went limp, collapsing in a heap.Ethan didn’t stop.Even as Michael lay crumpled on the floor, gasping like a fish dragged from water, Ethan’s fist came down again—controlled, deliberate, brutal.Thud.A sharp breath tore from Michael’s lungs.Another punch follo
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