From Prison To Power

Chapter 004 – A Beauty Offering Herself To Be Taken

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"Just drop me off at the outskirts of the city," Glenn Avery finally spoke, breaking the long, contemplative silence that had shrouded him ever since the convoy began its journey.

His voice was low, unhurried, and laced with a detached serenity, but the weight behind those simple words was enough to startle the driver and the sharply dressed man seated beside him in the front passenger seat—the leader of the security convoy.

The two exchanged quick glances, the leader arching an eyebrow.

"Master Glenn, do you have a business you wish to attend to personally? We could wait nearby or escort you directly and then proceed to your hotel afterward," the man asked cautiously.

Glenn didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he shifted his gaze to the window, silently watching the cityscape blur past.

What was once familiar had now transformed into a bustling metropolis of lights and motion. The buildings were taller, the roads were sleeker, and the billboards flashed products and stars he'd never seen before.

So much had changed… so much that everywhere felt entirely unfamiliar to him.

"I'm not staying at the hotel you prepared," Glenn stated at last, his tone resolute, not leaving room for discussion.

The air in the vehicle instantly grew thick with unease.

"You... you won’t be staying at the Imperial Zenith hotel? That’s a top-tier facility, sir! A presidential suite with private butlers and a panoramic skyline view!" the team leader blurted out, his voice cracking slightly from shock. "Master Glenn, if it’s not to your liking, we can book you the Sky Haven Palace or even a private estate—

"No," Glenn interrupted, this time with a slight edge. "Just drop me off. I’ll handle myself from there."

The team leader hesitated for a brief moment but quickly remembered the iron command given to him before he came to Xavier—never question Glenn Avery's decisions, no matter how baffling or unconventional they seemed.

"Understood, sir," he replied, reaching for his walkie-talkie. "All units, halt at the city’s outskirts. Master Glenn’s instructions are to be followed without question."

Within minutes, the sleek, bulletproof convoy of obsidian-black SUVs came to a graceful stop on a quiet, elevated road just outside the city. The entire setup was fit for royalty—each vehicle polished to a mirror finish, engines humming like tamed beasts.

As soon as the cars stopped, Glenn stepped out with his simple backpack slung over one shoulder. He adjusted the strap casually, then made a nonchalant hand gesture as if shooing away paparazzi.

The men in tailored black suits exchanged baffled looks. This man—who had just refused an elite hotel and voluntarily stepped out of a multimillion-dollar convoy, something anybody, even them, would have died to have—was now strolling down the road like a wandering poet.

But what could they do?

“Take care, Master Glenn. Should you require anything—anything at all—we’re just one call away,” the team leader said, giving a deep bow before signaling the convoy to depart.

In the next second, engines roared, tires turned, and just like that, the convoy vanished into the distance.

Glenn stared after them for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.

“Rolling up in a luxury convoy and crashing at a five-star hotel? Tch. That’d be asking for unnecessary attention. What kind of low-profile return would that be?” he muttered, adjusting his backpack again as he began walking toward the city, his pace unhurried.

The city had grown brighter, louder, and taller in the years he’d been gone. It was almost unrecognizable. Yet, beneath the concrete glamor and the glinting skyline, he could still feel its heartbeat.

After a while, he flagged down a beat-up yellow cab.

“Just take me to a simple hotel,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Somewhere quiet.”

The cabbie, an old man with fuzzy eyebrows and a questionable mustache looked Glenn up and down—shirt slightly wrinkled, dusty sneakers, but a posture too confident for a homeless man. He simply shrugged. "Sure, buddy. I've got just the dump—I mean, place."

….

Eventually, Glenn arrived at a modest roadside hotel called Maple Rest Inn, the kind of establishment where the bell at the front desk was louder than the staff.

He stood outside for a few seconds, eyeing the faded sign and flickering lights. It looked like it hadn’t seen a renovation since the dinosaurs roamed.

Perfect.

"This'll do just fine," he whispered with a small nod.

The receptionist, a lanky teenager too busy playing a mobile game, barely looked up as he tossed Glenn a key card with room number 203.

The room was… basic. The bed looked small, barely for two people, and the walls were thin enough to hear someone cough in the next room. But for Glenn, after years of prison walls and steel bunks, it felt like heaven.

He tossed his backpack onto the one rickety chair, stripped off his clothes, and walked straight into the bathroom.

For the first time in years, he took a hot shower—a real shower. Not a bucket. Not cold water in the dead of winter. A glorious, steaming, muscle-relaxing downpour.

"God bless water pressure," he murmured, his eyes closing as he stood under the stream for what felt like an eternity.

It was nearly an hour before he finally turned the faucet off. He stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and was toweling off his hair when—

BANG!

The door suddenly shook like it had been dropkicked.

Glenn’s eyes snapped toward it, his body tensing up.

BANG!

The second impact nearly dislodged the door. Then, it burst open.

Glenn's fists instinctively clenched, a sort of invisible energy gathering around him, and his eyes slowly turning cold.

Just as he was about to attack, thinking it was an enemy or someone with bad intent, he froze.

Standing in the doorway was not an attacker, not a burglar, and not a rival.

But a goddess.

A young woman stumbled into the room—a woman so unnaturally beautiful that Glenn almost doubted she was real.

Her skin glowed like porcelain. Her lips were plump and naturally pink. Long ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk.

Her figure too? It was dangerously perfect… an hourglass figure, something any lady would die to have.

And the gemstone necklace that sat perfectly on her collarbone? It seemed perfectly made to complement her beauty, adding an aura he couldn’t quite comprehend to her.

Glenn almost forgot himself, staring at the goddess in human form, but he managed to shake himself awake.

“Miss… you’ve clearly got the wrong room,” he said quickly, waving his hand awkwardly while backing away. “Seriously, wrong door.”

But she didn’t respond.

Instead, she stared at Glenn for a moment, then... she pounced—leaping into his arms like a cat in heat.

“Please!” she gasped. “Please… I need you!”

Glenn’s brain flatlined.

“I... huh?! Wait, what?! LADY?!”

The woman clung to him like she was trying to become one with his soul, her lips dangerously close to his.

Glenn panicked, internally screaming but outwardly frozen.

‘Is this a prank? Did I just step into a soap opera?! Is there a hidden camera crew somewhere?!’

She kept murmuring. “I need it… now... please...”

Glenn was no saint, but he also wasn’t a creep.

He grabbed her wrists gently but firmly. “Okay, time out. You’re clearly not in your right senses.”

With calm precision, he checked her pulse—and immediately, his expression darkened.

“A drug?” he muttered. “Someone has definitely slipped her an ultra-concentrated aphrodisiac.”

His frown deepened as he examined her energy flow. What he discovered nearly made his jaw drop.

“If she doesn’t receive… ahem… ‘release’ within the next two hours, her internal energy will overload, and… she’ll explode and die?”

He stared at her, still wildly attempting to latch onto him like a hormonal octopus.

“This… this is not how I expected my first day from prison to go…”

She looked up at him again with watery, desperate eyes.

“Please… save me… I… I will die.”

He swallowed hard. He was neither a eunuch nor impotent.