Her Ex-husband Is A God Of War

2

He reached for the handle.

She grabbed him from behind, nails digging into his shirt. “This is all your fault!” she hissed into his ear. “If you were the kind of man I needed, I wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere.”

Charles turned around slowly, eyes cold. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“No one’s going to care about your stupid pictures,” she said, voice rising. “Not the police. Not my parents. Roger owns the goddamn building. You think anybody’s going to take your side?”

He stared at her for a moment, then scoffed.

She gently patted his shoulder, suddenly sweet. “Let’s talk. Sit down, breathe. I’ll make your favorite—beef stroganoff.”

“I want a divorce,” he said, voice flat.

She froze. The smile vanished. “What did you say?”

“I said…” He peeled her hands off him. “I want out.”

And with that, he stepped out into the cold, quiet streets of New York, not once looking back.

Emmy hissed under her breath, arms folded. He’s overreacting.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. Charles was the one being stupid. Always so emotional, so soft.

He’ll be back, she told herself. Twenty-four hours tops. He always comes crawling back.

Another hiss escaped her lips. She turned on her heel and headed back inside, not a single trace of remorse on her face.

Halfway to the room, she met Roger at the doorway, holding a cold beer to his jaw.

“Are you okay?” she asked, brushing a finger over the swelling under his eye.

Roger forced a grin, though there was pain behind it. “I'll live.”

“Want some ice?”

“Nah. I want you. That bastard ruined my finish. I was just getting started.”

Emmy laughed, dragging him inside. He winced but followed, eager to reclaim his dominance.

“He'll delete the pictures,” she said as she began undoing his shirt.

“I have him under control already,” Roger muttered through gritted teeth.

“How?”

“My boys are already on him.”

“Good,” she smirked. “He deserves worse.”

****

Charles crossed to the other side of the road. He would spend the night in a hotel before figuring out what to do next.

His godfather would be really mad to hear this.

Damn.

“Mr Charles Decker?” A voice called behind Charles.

Charles turned around. “How can I help you?”

“You can help us by giving us your phone,” A hefty man who looked like he has spent all his life in the gym said.

“And get on your knees,” another hefty man of the same build added.

“And apologize for the shit you did to Master.”

Charles’ brows drew together. “What Master are you talking about?”

“How dare you ask questions? Are we laughing with you?” One of the men closed in on Charles.

“Wait a minute, that bastard—Roger— is your master?” Charles asked. “It'd be better to serve beggars than serve that man.”

“I swear on my life, this is the last minutes of your life,” one of the men said.

“Do you have a cigarette? I could use a smoke,” Charles said.

The five men looked at one another before bursting into laughter.

“Do you think playing tough can save you from us?” One of the men plunged at Charles.

Charles toss the man like a rag doll across the road.

The four other men, surprised, plunged at Charles at once.

A minute later, all the men are lying lifeless on the ground.

Charles went to the one one among them who was still breathing. “Can I have a cigarette?”

With trembling hands, the man brought out a cigarette from his pocket.

Charles patted the man. “Buddy, if you make it alive, know who to serve.”

He took a lighter from his pocket and luggage and lit the cigarette.

He took a puff. He looked around. In a flash, two young men having the same build as him rushes at him.

“Big Boss, is everything okay?” One of them asked, bowing.

“Sniper, how many times have I told you to stop tailing me?”

“It is the godfather’s command, sir and we cannot go against it.”

“It's late in the night, Big Boss, is there anything we can do for you?”

“Disappear,” Charles said. He grabbed his luggage.

The two men stood straight and watched Charles enter a bar.

“Are we safe?” One of them asked.

“I'm not sure. Godfather might cut off our heads tomorrow if anything happens to Big Boss.”

“But he said we should leave. You think you can risk getting on Big Boss’ nerves?”

The other man shook his head fast. The last thing he wanted was to get in the bad book of a god of war who had killed ruthless men far more than he could count.

“We must not let the godfather be aware of this,” he said and the two of them left, disappearing as Charles commanded.