Obsidian Heir

CHAPTER 7: THE GATE

The shock on her face lasted only a heartbeat before it curdled into a mask of pure disdain. 

She stepped forward, the heels of her designer shoes clicking aggressively against the stone.

"You actually followed me here?" she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "I thought I made it clear enough when I dumped you. Is this your plan, Zachary? You find a nice suit, sneak onto the red carpet, and think I’m going to run back into your arms? You’ve come to beg for reconciliation, haven't you?"

A shadow fell over her as Bennett Sterling stepped up beside her. 

He looked every bit the arrogant heir in a crisp white tuxedo, a glass of champagne in one hand and a look of amused cruelty in his eyes.

Bennett let out a bark of laughter that drew the attention of the surrounding guests. 

"Look at this! The walking blood bag has ideas above his station. What’s the matter, Zachary? Did the dog pit not have enough room for your ego?"

He stepped into Zachary’s space, the smell of expensive scotch and malice radiating off him. "You want mercy? You want Elise back? Fine. I’m a generous man. Kneel. Right here on the marble, in front of everyone. Put your forehead to the ground and plead like the dog you are. Maybe then I’ll let you watch us dance tonight."

Elise let out a sharp, mocking titter. "Do it, Zachary. It’s the only way you’re getting inside. Although, I doubt even a beggar’s plea would work for a pathetic loser like you."

Zachary looked through them, his eyes like polished grey stones. 

Contrary to their expectations, he didn't feel the urge to shout or cry. 

Honestly, he felt like he was a mountain watching ants try to move it.

"Step aside," Zachary said. 

His voice was quiet, but it held a vibration that seemed to make the champagne in Bennett’s glass ripple. "You’re blocking the entrance."

The surrounding guests, who had begun to linger to watch the spectacle, burst into a fresh wave of derision.

"Step aside?" Bennett repeated, his face darkening. "You’re a piece of useless trash, Zachary. Do you know who I am? I am the man who is about to sign a partnership with the Prism Dragon Group. I’m a guest of honor. You? You’re just a stain on the carpet that the cleaners missed."

Zachary’s lips curved into a cold, almost imperceptible smile. "A partnership? It’s a bit early for a victory lap, Sterling. It isn't certain whether the Sterling Corporation will ever secure a deal with the Prism Dragon group. In fact, I wouldn’t count on it."

Bennett’s eyes bulged. "You little parasite. You think you know how this world works? You think your opinion matters to anyone in this building?"

He turned toward the security detail standing at the velvet rope. 

There were four of them, thick-necked men in black tactical gear, their eyes scanning the crowd with professional boredom.

"Guards!" Bennett roared, pointing a finger at Zachary’s chest. "This man is a fraud and a stalker. He doesn't have an invitation. He’s harassing my fiancée and disrupting the event. Throw this garbage out of here before I report your incompetence to the manager!"

The head guard, a man with a buzz cut and a golden chain hanging from his neck, stepped forward. 

He looked at Bennett, recognizing the Sterling name, and then at Zachary. 

His hand moved toward the baton at his belt.

"Sir, I’m going to need to see your invitation," the guard said, his tone flat and dangerous.

Zachary met his gaze without blinking. "I have one."

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. 

Bennett and Elise shared a look of pure mockery, while the surrounding guests began to chuckle and jeer, enjoying the sight of the underdog being cornered.

"An invitation?" Bennett sneered. "From who? The orphanage? Or did you forge one in the back of your delivery van?"

In response, Zachary simply reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. 

The movement was slow and deliberate. 

He pulled out the matte-black obsidian card, the silver dragon engraving catching the overhead spotlights and throwing a sharp, metallic glint across the marble floor.

He held it out, resting it in the palm of his hand.

Bennett and Elise leaned in, their expressions shifting from mockery to a brief, confused silence.

But when Bennett saw that there were no embossed numbers or a standard bank logo, he burst into a fresh fit of laughter.

"A black card?" Bennett sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Is that what you’re trying to pass off? It’s a fake, you idiot. It’s a piece of plastic junk he probably had made in a basement. Guard, look at it! Have you ever seen a card that looks like a child’s toy?"

The guards looked at the card, then back at Bennett. 

They weren't high-ranking executives; they didn't know the secrets that Zachary did.

All they knew was that the wealthy Mr. Sterling was angry and this boy in the rental suit looked like he didn't belong.

"It’s fake," the head guard decided, his voice hardening. "I don't know what game you're playing, kid, but it's over. Leave now, or we'll make you leave."

He reached out, his heavy hand moving to grab Zachary’s shoulder to spin him around.

"I wouldn't do that," Zachary warned. 

His voice was a low, vibrating tone that made the hair on the back of the guard’s neck stand up. "You will regret touching me."

The guard let out a dry snort of derision. "Regret it? I’m going to enjoy it."

He lunged, his fingers clawing for Zachary’s throat.

In Zachary’s vision, the movement was sluggish, a clumsy arc of wasted motion. 

He pivoted an inch to the left, letting the guard’s hand grasp nothing but empty air. 

Before the man could even register the miss, Zachary’s hand came up. 

He delivered a simple, open-palmed slap that carried the full, unbridled force of the Dragon-Heart energy brewing in his chest.

CRACK.

The sound was like a gunshot echoing off the glass walls.

The burly guard was launched. He flew several meters through the air, his body a blur of black tactical gear, before he slammed into the reinforced glass wall of the lobby. He hit with a sickening thud, the glass shivering under the impact, and then slid heavily onto the marble floor like a sack of wet sand.

The silence that followed was absolute.

The jeering stopped. The camera flashes died. Even the city traffic seemed to hush for a split second. Every eye in the plaza was fixed on the guard, who lay crumpled and unmoving.

Struggling, the guard managed to push himself up on one shaking arm. 

He spat a mouthful of thick, dark blood onto the pristine marble, his eyes rolling in his head before they finally locked onto Zachary with a look of pure, murderous hatred.

"You... you little bastard," the guard wheezed, his voice a ragged rasp.

He looked toward the other three guards, who stood frozen in shock. "What are you waiting for? Subdue him! Break his arms and legs! I want him crippled!"