REVENGE OF THE MOURNER

Take Your Filthy Hands off My Wife!

A sleek blue-black fighter jet had just landed on a small airstrip at a military base on the outskirts of Greystone Hollow. Thousands of soldiers, led by a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black coat, stood in perfect formation facing the jet.

“Salute The Mourner!”

Following the tall man’s command, the soldiers raised their arms in a synchronized military salute as a chiseled, athletic man stepped down from the fighter jet.

He was Leonidas Vale, The Mourner, the strongest member of The Nocturn, a covert paramilitary organization whispered to be more lethal than the CIA, MI6, or even Mossad.

“Dimitri, didn’t I tell you to cut the theatrics? I’m no longer part of The Nocturn. I came back to this town as a regular civilian,” said Leon.

“Please don’t say that, sir,” said Dimitri, the towering man in the black coat. “Even if the our leader has accepted your resignation, to me, you’ll always be a Nocturn. You’re a living legend—one no man can ever replace.”

Leon raised an eyebrow and sighed. That was Dimitri for him. Loyal to the bone. Throughout his five years in The Nocturn, Dimitri had always been the first to step up and defend him when things got rough.

Even now, Dimitri had taken an extended leave just to arrive ahead of Leon in Greystone Hollow, setting everything in place for his return.

“All right,” Leon said, “what did you find? Got anything to report?”

Since Dimitri got to this town earlier, Leon had tasked him with gathering intel on his family and also Evelyn—his wife. 

Seven years ago, Leon had been thrown behind bars on false rape charges orchestrated by the Harringtons, his wife’s family; accused of assaulting one of the housemaids in the Harrington's great mansion. He hadn't seen his family since.

Dimitri stepped closer, his expression clouded.

“Your family’s situation is bad, sir. Real bad. Your mother’s gone partially blind from overwork. Your sister lost her teaching job and now dances at a strip club downtown. Their house is falling apart. It’s heartbreaking.”

Leon inhaled deeply and held it, fighting the rage bubbling under his skin.

“You know who did this to them?”

“I do, sir. After your arrest, the Harringtons made sure to make their lives hell.”

Leon exhaled through his nose—hard.

He figured as much. Getting him locked up and ripping him away from Evelyn wasn’t enough. The Harringtons wanted to punish his family too.

It seemed like they really hated him because he ruined their plans to marry Evelyn off to Jonathan Kerstel, the heir to a billionaire dynasty—his father, Victor Kerstel, was arguably the richest man in the town at that time.

And the scandal of Evelyn marrying Leon, a nobody, a regular factory worker, had stained their precious noble status. 

The marriage itself only happened because Mr. Harold, Evelyn’s grandfather and the head of the Harrington family at the time, gave his blessing—he believed Leon was a good man. Unfortunately, three months after the wedding, he passed away from a heart attack. Ever since then, the Harringtons had openly rejected Leon’s presence in their daily lives.

The Harringtons thought Leon would rot in prison for the next fifteen years, giving them free rein to do whatever they wanted to his family. What they didn’t know was that nine months into his sentence, Leon had been approached by the prison warden with an extraordinary offer—to join The Nocturn. 

Turned out, the warden was a scout of The Nocturn, hunting for raw, dangerous talent to reshape the world.

“What about my wife?” Leon asked, Evelyn’s face flashing through his mind.

“Based on the intel I gathered, sir,” Dimitri said, “the Harringtons are forcing her to marry Jonathan Kerstel. And today, Jonathan plans to propose her. The engagement party is already underway. Five-star hotel. Lavish setup.”

“What did you just say?” Leon’s eyes narrowed.

“If the schedule holds,” Dimitri checked his watch, “the proposal starts in thirty minutes, sir.”

Leon took another deep breath. His fists clenched.

Jonathan had been obsessed with Evelyn for years. And when she chose Leon over him, the spoiled brat couldn’t handle it. He did everything he could to drive a wedge between them—even fabricated that rape case to get Leon locked away in jail.

“You sure about this, Dimitri?”

“Hundred percent, sir.”

Leon nodded. “Then I’m going there. You got the car ready?”

“Of course, sir. Right this way.”

As Dimitri led him through the path between two columns of soldiers, Leon marched with slow, deliberate steps. The sheer presence he exuded was enough to paralyze the troops in place.

If Leon ever revealed who he truly was at this moment, half of the troops would probably faint.

‘Wait for me, Evelyn. I’m coming to save our marriage.’

...

Twenty minutes later, at The Vellington, one of Greystone Hollow’s five-star hotels…

The ballroom was packed. Hundreds of guests mingled in tuxedos and glittering gowns, sipping wine and swapping shallow compliments.

Near the stage, an extravagant display of gifts stood in neat rows. Everything from multi-million-dollar jewelry to a luxury apartment complex—its miniature model shimmering under the chandelier lights.

All of it brought by Jonathan Kerstel.

All of it promised to the Harringtons—if Evelyn officially accepted his proposal.

“You’re really amazing, Jonathan. Victor Kerstel’s only son really is one of a kind,” cooed Verona, Evelyn’s mother.

“Once Evelyn becomes your wife, we’ll be part of the legendary Kerstel lineage. What an honor for us!” said Roger, Evelyn's father.

“We’re lucky to receive all these lavish gifts from you, Jonathan,” added Gregory, Evelyn's older brother. “Honestly, if Evelyn weren’t so stubborn, this could’ve happened sooner. Until a while ago she still believed that the fucking loser was still her husband.”

“You mean Leon, right—that broke factory rat?” said Margot, Evelyn’s aunt. “But never mind. What matters is that she’s finally seen the light. She belongs with a man of class—like you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan soaked in their praise like a sponge. His chest puffed with pride, his grin stretching wide. As a spoiled only child, validation was like his drug of choice.

“This is nothing,” he boasted. “On our wedding day, I’ll bring gifts ten times grander.”

The Harringtons’ eyes sparkled at the promise, showering him with more flattery. Jonathan raised his glass and toasted them all.

But on the far side of the stage, a different picture unfolded.

Evelyn sat quietly on a golden chair, draped in sorrow. She was the only one in the room who didn’t look like they belonged at this glittering circus.

Seven years had passed since Leon was dragged away to jail. The Harringtons never let her visit him. She didn’t even know if he was alive or he’d been transferred far away—that's the rumour she heard..

Anyway, the waiting had worn her down. If Leon was never coming back, maybe… just maybe, she should give Jonathan a chance. That’s what she kept telling herself.

But deep down, she knew, she wasn’t ready. Some foolish part of her still hoped Leon would suddenly appear in this party, explaining what really happened seven years ago.

“Hey, Eve, why are you sitting there all alone?” Jonathan’s voice cut through her thoughts as he approached. “Come dance with me before the proposal starts.”

He extended his hand and bowed like a gentleman. His smile, directed at Evelyn, was softer—different from the smug smirk he gave everyone else.

Evelyn didn’t want to accept, but politeness won out. She took his hand.

The moment she stood, Jonathan pulled her in by the waist—too fast, too close. With a snap of his fingers, classical music filled the air. The ballroom’s attention shifted to the stage as the pair began their slow, intimate dance.

“What’s wrong, Eve?” he whispered near her ear. “Still thinking about that piece of trash?”

Evelyn shot him a glare. “Don’t call him that. He’s not trash.”

“Oh really? Then what would you call him? A rapist?”

Her eyes widened.

“Come on, Eve. Forget that bastard. He snuck into your housemaid’s room and raped her. He deserves your hatred, not your pity.”

“Stop it, Jo. Just stop badmouthing him.”

The tension between them clashed with the gentle waltz around them. Their eyes locked. Hers, furious. His, cold.

“Next month, you’ll be my wife,” he said firmly. “Time to forget that criminal.”

Evelyn didn’t answer. But the anger coloring her cheeks said enough. She tried to pull away.

But Jonathan didn’t let her go. Instead, he yanked her back against him. One hand gripped her waist. The other grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up.

“You’re going to be mine, Eve. Get used to it.” He leaned in.

Evelyn’s eyes widened in fear. She squirmed, but he held firm.

“Jonathan… please… don’t—”

BANG!

The ballroom doors slammed open with a deafening crash.

 

Every head turned. Even Jonathan froze, inches from Evelyn’s lips.

“Take your filthy hands off my wife, Jonathan Kerstel!”

...