2025-03-20 19:37:58The East Valley Quarry was unlike any other place in the world. A sanctuary for the damned, a prison for the untouchable. Super-criminals, disgraced elites, and fugitives all found shelter here. But there was only one rule ,absolute obedience to Davion Hargreaves.
A warrior feared by all. A man no one dared to cross.
Right now, one of those prisoners was on his knees in front of him. Losthar Milton, once a billionaire, now just another worm groveling for mercy. His forehead touched the cold floor, his entire body trembling.
“Sir, I have finished cleaning the toilets,” he whispered, not daring to meet Davion’s gaze.
Davion leaned back in his chair, swirling a cup of red tea in his hand. His sharp, wolf-like eyes studied the pathetic man before him.
“And?” His voice was calm, indifferent.
“I seek your forgiveness sire.” Losthar’s forehead was slick with sweat.
Davion took a slow sip of his tea. “Next time you add sugar to my tea without permission, you’ll be scrubbing the entire quarry with a toothbrush.”
Losthar flinched. “U-Understood, sir.”
Before Davion could dismiss him, a quarry worker suddenly burst into the room, panting like a dying dog.
“Boss! It’s Aligator and Ripper… they’re at it again! No one dares to stop them!”
Davion sighed, placing his tea down. “Idiots.”
Without another word, he stood up and walked out.
The quarry center was in chaos.
Dust filled the air as two monsters clashed in the middle of the yard. Aligator, a hulking brute with fists the size of cannonballs roared like a beast, swinging wildly at his opponent. Ripper, a scar-faced lunatic, laughed as he dodged each blow, his bloodshot eyes filled with madness.
The other criminals watched from a distance, whispering. No one was stupid enough to interfere.
Then, a heavy silence fell over the crowd.
Davion had arrived.
His gaze was cold and he didn’t need to raise his voice. He didn’t need to bark orders. His presence alone was enough.
“You two seem to have too much energy.” Davion’s arms crossed over his chest, his lips curling into a mocking smirk. “Let’s fix that.”
Aligator spat blood onto the ground. “It’s just a small fight, boss.”
Ripper wiped his busted lip. “Yeah, we were just–”
“Three days.”
Both men stiffened.
“Hung on the flagpole. No food. No water.” Davion’s tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
A vein popped in Aligator’s forehead. “That’s ridiculous -”
Davion suddenly took one step forward and Aligator shut his mouth immediately.
Ripper forced a smile. “Boss, there’s no need for that. We’ll behave.”
Davion raised a brow. “You sure? I was hoping for some exercise.”
A shiver ran down their spines at his suggestion.
Davion hadn’t fought in months. If he was offering to spar, it wasn’t for fun it was a death sentence.
Aligator and Ripper exchanged glances before dropping to their knees.
“We accept the punishment.”
Davion chuckled. “Smart choice boys.”
He turned and walked away, leaving the two strongest criminals in the quarry humiliated and terrified.
Back in his office, Davion barely had time to sit before he noticed someone waiting for him.
A woman leaning against the door.
Tall, striking, dressed in elegant battle gear. A presence that demanded attention.
Irene Rosenberg.
The nation’s most famous female warrior. Heir to the Rosenberg family. And, unfortunately, his fiancée.
Davion exhaled slowly. “If you’re here to kill me, get in line.”
Irene crossed her arms. “You know why I’m here, so don't pretend.”
He gave her a lazy look. “You came all this way just to tell me you don’t want to marry me? How touching.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Our engagement was arranged when you were still part of the Hargreaves family. You’re nothing now. Just a man hiding in the shadows.”
Davion smirked. “Yet here you are, standing in my office, speaking to me like I still matter.”
Irene clenched her jaw. “I don’t need your permission to break the engagement. I just wanted to say it to your face.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And?”
“…And I don’t regret it.”
He laughed low, amused, like he had heard the world’s funniest joke.
“Of course you don’t.” He leaned back again, waving a hand dismissively. “Go. You’re freeto go.”
For a brief moment, she faltered in her steps. "That’s it?"
"You expected tears?" His lips curved slightly. "Maybe a desperate plea to keep you and make you stay?"
She scoffed. "You’re a disappointment. I thought there’d be at least some fight in you, at least fight for me to stay ."
Davion tilted his head. "You thought wrong”
Irene’s eyes narrowed, searching for any reaction. Davion merely picked up his tea and took a sip from it.
"Fine." She turned on her heel. "Enjoy your prison, Davion."
He didn’t bother watching her leave.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Davion stared at the ceiling.
“Not even a congratulations,” he murmured with a wry smile.
The office was quiet again.
Davion exhaled, shaking his head. What a pointless visit.
Then, he noticed something, a small letter sat on his desk, sealed with a familiar emblem.
Davion sat up and his expression darkened.
Deep Space Company.
The secret empire his father built. Hidden from the world, filled with wealth and power beyond imagination. If they sent a letter, it wasn’t for something trivial.
He tore it open and read the contents.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
Leksar’s orders were clear.
Go to Chelster City.
Marry Beverly Norton.
Davion let out a short, humorless chuckle.
“Guess I’ll need a new suit.”
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Irene crouched on the edge of the rooftop, staring at the tangled mess of skyscrapers, alleyways, and streets below. The city felt like a puzzle—a massive, chaotic puzzle she had yet to figure out. She scanned the skyline, eyes darting from one shadowed corner to another. Somewhere down there, Davion was hiding. Somewhere down there, his fate—no, everyone’s fate—was being decided.Her phone buzzed in her pocket, shattering the quiet of the moment. She pulled it out, not expecting much. Another warning, another threat. She didn’t have time for either. But then, when she saw the unknown number, her curiosity gnawed at her.“Who is this?” she answered, her voice cutting through the static of the call.The voice that came through the line was cold—almost robotic. It sent a shiver up her spine.“You want Davion? So does everyone else. But you and I both know you’re not here to kill him.”Irene’s grip tightened on the phone. “What do you want?”“To warn you,” the voice continued, unaffected