Inside the cramped bathroom, damp and reeking of cheap floor cleaner, Emily clutched Chloe so tightly she could feel her daughter’s heart hammering wildly against her chest. They were crouched in the corner, behind a thin, fragile plastic door.
“Mama… why are they yelling?” Chloe whispered, her voice hoarse from too much crying. “Where’s Papa? Papa said he was coming home with ice cream.”
Emily bit her lip until she tasted blood, forcing herself to hold back her sobs so no sound would escape.
“Papa is on his way, sweetheart. Papa’s buying the biggest ice cream for Chloe. Now close your ears, okay? Just pretend we’re playing hide and seek with Papa’s friends.”
BAM. CRASH.
The pounding on their apartment door grew more brutal. Each impact felt like a sledgehammer slamming into Emily’s chest. She knew the wooden door would not hold much longer.
“Hey! Emily! I know you’re in there, pretty!” a man’s raspy voice shouted from outside. “Don’t make this hard. Come out now or I tear this place apart and rape you in front of your kid!”
“Open the door, bitch! Your man’s already dead, crab food!” another voice chimed in, followed by loud laughter. “Now your body belongs to my boss, and nobody’s gonna know if I take a little taste first!”
CRACK.
The sound of splintering wood and snapping hinges told them their last line of defense had collapsed. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Chloe even tighter. Heavy footsteps entered their small living room.
“Damn, this place stinks,” muttered a thick built man named Marco. He kicked over the small dining table. “Find her. She’s gotta be hiding in the bedroom or the kitchen.”
“Boss, look at this. A picture of her husband,” Slim said, a skinny thug with yellowed teeth, holding up a framed photo of Eduardo. “How does a loser with a face like this get a supermodel wife? Life’s really unfair.”
CRASH.
Slim slammed the frame to the floor and ground Eduardo’s face beneath his dirty boot.
“Emily… oh Emily… come on out, sweetheart,” Marco said as he paced the room, dragging his baseball bat across the concrete floor, the scraping sound piercing and cruel. “I don’t wanna get rough. If you behave, maybe I’ll give you a nice warm up before I deliver you to Boss Claude.”
“Bathroom, Marco! It’s locked from the inside!” Slim shouted from the narrow hallway.
Emily’s heart nearly stopped. She stared at the bathroom door as it began to shake.
“Found you,” Marco whispered from the other side. “Come out nicely, beautiful, or I break this down and drag you out naked in front of your kid. Your choice.”
“Go away! Leave us alone!” Emily screamed, forcing courage into her voice. “The police are coming! I already called them!”
Marco laughed loudly, the kind of laugh that crushed courage.
“Police? In this district? You’re hilarious, Emily. The cops here wouldn’t show up even if a bomb went off, let alone to save a loser’s widow like you. Besides, who’s gonna believe a whore’s report?”
BOOM.
Marco slammed his shoulder into the door. The plastic cracked.
“Mama, I’m scared…” Chloe whimpered, struggling in Emily’s arms.
“Shh… Chloe, close your eyes. Don’t open them, sweetheart. Mama’s here,” Emily whispered through tears.
BOOM.
The door burst open. Marco stood there with a filthy grin, staring at the helpless pair. He licked his lips when he saw Emily’s thin nightgown.
“Well, well… look at this, Slim. We even got a little bonus toy,” Marco said, his gaze sliding toward Chloe in a way that made Emily’s blood boil.
“Don’t touch my child, you bastard!” Emily stood up, trying to block Marco with her trembling body.
Marco grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the bathroom wall, her head cracking against the tiles.
“Listen up. You’ve got nobody left. Eduardo’s dead. He died like a dog on the pier. Now you’re just a piece of meat to pay off that useless man’s debt.”
“Eduardo… he’s not dead… he just called me!” Emily screamed into Marco’s face.
Marco froze for a second, then burst out laughing along with Slim behind him.
“A call? Hahaha. Must’ve been his ghost calling from hell. I saw him beaten to death myself by Boss Claude. Stop hallucinating.”
Marco yanked Emily by the hair, dragging her out into the living room. Chloe screamed hysterically and tried to grab Marco’s leg, but Slim viciously kicked the little girl, sending her flying into the sofa.
“CHLOE!” Emily screamed. “Let me go, bastard! Do whatever you want to me, just don’t touch my child!”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’re definitely gonna do whatever we want to you,” Slim said as he stepped closer, his hand sliding toward Emily’s exposed thigh as her gown rode up. “But this kid’s too noisy. Maybe I should tape her mouth shut so we can focus.”
Marco threw Emily onto the filthy living room floor, littered with shards of Eduardo’s shattered photo frame. He stepped on her hair, forcing her face toward the broken doorway.
“Look at that door, Emily. Nobody’s coming to save you. No hero, no loser husband, just us,” Marco said as he crouched down, roughly grabbing her face. “I wonder if Eduardo ever made you scream and climax over and over like I’m gonna do tonight,” he hissed, kissing her cheek and brutally groping her chest.
“Eduardo will kill all of you…” Emily whispered, hatred blazing in her eyes as she slapped his hand away, but she was too weak.
“Hahaha. Eduardo? That pier loser?” Marco sneered, squeezing her chest again. “He couldn’t even stand straight in front of me without shaking.”
Marco stared at Emily’s furious glare, finding it intoxicating.
“The only thing your man’s doing now is rotting at the bottom of the sea, and the only thing you can do is enjoy my touch and choke on my manhood with that cute little mouth.”
Marco shoved himself close to Emily’s face.
“Come on. Unzip me.”
“Mama… Mama…” Chloe cried, unable to watch anymore.
Emily ignored Chloe’s screams. She refused to let her daughter see her beg or break. If she had to die, she would die without being defiled in front of her child.
Emily spat on Marco’s pants.
“Disgusting. I’d rather die than suck your rotten piece of trash.”
“Bitch!” Marco snarled, releasing her chest and raising his hand in fury.
Emily closed her eyes, waiting for the slap. She felt her life was over, that she had failed to protect Chloe. The ruin felt real, thick, suffocating.
But the slap never came.
Instead, Emily heard a gunshot.
BANG.
The deafening blast echoed from the corridor outside the shattered door.
Blood and fragments of brain sprayed across the floor near Emily.
Slim, who had been standing near the door laughing, suddenly lost the top half of his head. His body remained upright for a second before collapsing like a sack of grain.
Silence.
The world seemed to stop. There was only a ringing in Emily’s ears and the sound of Marco’s breath catching in terror.
“What… what the hell…” Marco stammered as he turned toward the doorway now swallowed by shadow.
There stood a man.
His clothes were soaked, clinging to a body that looked broader yet stiff. His face was deathly pale, his eyes burning red beneath wet strands of hair. In his right hand, a Glock 17 still smoked faintly.
He did not look human. He looked like a devil crawling out of the grave to collect vengeance.
“Eduardo?” Emily whispered, barely audible.
The figure stepped into the room. Each step left trails of seawater mixed with blood on the floor. He did not look at Emily. His gaze was locked on Marco, whose foot was still planted in his wife’s hair.
“What did you just say about me?” Eduardo’s voice was low, hoarse, and utterly inhuman. “Say it again. I didn’t hear you.”
Marco trembled violently. He tried to reach for the pistol at his waist, but his hands were paralyzed by terror.
“No… no way… you’re dead! I saw you thrown away!”
Eduardo tilted his head slightly, staring at Marco as if he were an insect.
“You’re not wrong. The Eduardo you knew is dead. Unfortunately, hell rejected me. Said I still had some lives to collect tonight.”
Eduardo raised the pistol and aimed it straight at Marco’s groin.
“Now move your filthy foot off my wife’s hair before I make sure you can never have children again,” Eduardo hissed.
“Whoa… calm down, Eduardo! We can talk about this!” Marco shouted, hands raised. “It was Claude’s order! I was just doing my job!”
“Wrong answer,” Eduardo said coldly.
BANG.
“AAAAAARRGGHHH!” Marco screamed as the bullet tore into his right thigh, dropping him onto the broken glass.
Eduardo walked closer, his movements calm, predatory. Ignoring Marco’s screams, he glanced briefly at Emily.
“Emily, take Chloe. Go into the bedroom, close the door, and don’t come out until I call you,” Eduardo ordered, his expression blank.
“Eduardo… are you… are you okay?” Emily stared at her husband with a new kind of fear. This was not the gentle Eduardo she knew. This was a monster wearing her husband’s skin.
“Go. Now,” Eduardo snapped, his voice rising, cold and absolute.
Emily scrambled to Chloe, who was still shaking on the sofa, and ran into the bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Eduardo turned back to Marco, who was crawling across the floor, trying to escape through the window.
“Where do you think you’re going, tough guy?” Eduardo stepped on Marco’s hand as it reached for the window frame.
CRACK.
“I’m just getting started,” Eduardo whispered with a grin as a black aura began to coil around his body.
Latest Chapter
Ch 110. The Golden Cage
Shards of crystal glass lay scattered across the marble floor like a spray of worthless diamonds. Emily was still kneeling, her body trembling so violently that the sound of her teeth chattering echoed through the oppressive silence of the dining room. In front of her, Eduardo stood tall, his shadow stretching across the wall as though death itself had taken the form of a white-haired man. "Ed... just listen to me first..." Emily crawled forward, trying to grab the tip of Eduardo's shoe with hands still wet from the poisoned wine. "They... they forced me! Vanya said if I didn't do it, they'd kidnap Chloe from her dorm! I did it for our daughter, Ed! I swear!" Eduardo stared at Emily's hand. To his pitch-black eyes, her movements seemed slow, layered with lie upon lie. He no longer felt the burning anger he once would have. The pain of betrayal? Gone. The System had already consumed that emotion as the price of his previous power. "Belerik al
Ch 109. Poison in a Kiss
The crystal chandelier hanging above the main dining hall of Sark Tower glowed dimly, casting long shadows across the white marble table that resembled the fingers of demons. The atmosphere that night was unnervingly quiet, interrupted only by the soft clinking of silver forks against porcelain plates. At one end of the table sat Eduardo, his back straight, his black suit standing in stark contrast to his increasingly pale face. At the opposite end sat Emily, dressed in a blood-red silk gown. Her blonde hair was styled to perfection, giving the impression that the betrayal at the docks had been nothing more than a forgotten nightmare. Between them stood a bottle of 1945 Romanée-Conti, proud and imposing, as though serving as the referee to the frozen tension hanging in the room. "Why'd you suddenly invite me to dinner, Em?" Eduardo's voice emerged heavy and hoarse, carrying a cold metallic echo. Emily smiled. A smile that once could have made Eduardo willi
Ch 108. A Letter From the Commission
The top floor of Sark Tower felt like a coffin made of glass and steel that night. Eduardo sat behind his mahogany desk, its surface now riddled with holes from splashes of his corrosive black blood. In his hand, he held a thin sheet of dried skin, prepared through a horrifying process and covered in elegant gold-ink calligraphy. The scent of embalming chemicals and sharp metallic tang filled his increasingly dulled senses. Across from him, Belerik and Gord stood in silence. Belerik kept adjusting his glasses, while Gord couldn't stop fiddling with the trigger of the light machine gun slung over his shoulder. "Human skin parchment," Eduardo hissed. His voice sounded like two rusted blades scraping against each other. "Classic. Do they really think they're living in the Middle Ages?" "That's not just skin, Ed," Belerik said, his voice trembling. "It belonged to our informant in Paris who disappeared two days ago. The Commission. The five major Godfathers of Euro
Ch 107. The Puppet Rebels
The air in the Swiss Alps should have felt fresh and pure, yet for Eduardo, every breath felt like inhaling burning shards of glass. The private jet helicopter bearing the silver wolf insignia landed gracefully on the runway of Institut Le Rosey, the most expensive and exclusive boarding school in the world. Eduardo stepped down from the aircraft. His black suit stood in stark contrast against the snow blanketing the campus grounds. His hair had nearly turned completely white, and his skin carried an unhealthy grayish hue. Behind him, Gord followed with heavy footsteps, carrying a suitcase filled with "hush money," something that always seemed necessary whenever the Godfather's daughter caused trouble. "I hate this place, Ed," Gord muttered, pulling his fur-lined jacket tighter around himself. "Smells like rich kids who've never had the crap beaten out of them by dockyard thugs. Too sterile." "Shut up, Gord," Eduardo replied flatly. He pressed a handker
Ch 106. Black Blood on Silk
Six months had passed since the ruins of Vladimir Villa became the gravestone of the old era. Now, Rome had truly bent the knee beneath the shadow of Sark Tower. Eduardo sat behind his massive black teak desk, surrounded by dozens of monitors displaying port logistics charts stretching from Rotterdam to Marseille. The gold pen in his hand moved with machine-like precision, signing the acquisition documents for the last commercial port in Northern Italy. Yet the white silk shirt he wore felt increasingly loose on his frame. His marble-pale face had grown even gaunter, and the white hair at his temples had spread across nearly his entire head, leaving only a small patch of black at the back. Cough! Cough! Eduardo flinched. He covered his mouth with his left hand, the one that had only four fingers. The cough came from the deepest part of his lungs, burning and stabbing through him like rusted steel thorns. When he pulled his hand away, his pitch-b
Ch 105. The Peak of the World
Tonight, Rome no longer slept beneath the shadow of its glorious history. The Eternal City seemed to kneel beneath the feet of the most arrogant skyscraper in the central district, Sark Tower. Thousands of searchlights split the night sky, creating a canopy of light visible from dozens of miles away. In front of the main entrance, a procession of bulletproof limousines stretched across two city blocks. Men wearing suits worth thousands of euros and women carrying diamonds as heavy as their sins stepped out with a mixture of reverence and pure fear. Inside the Grand Ballroom on the top floor, the atmosphere felt heavier than a papal funeral. No laughter erupted. No cheerful clinking of glasses filled the air. Only hushed whispers in a dozen different European languages. "Jesus... I feel like I'm standing in a museum full of corpses," Gord muttered, adjusting the bow tie strangling his neck. He stood beside the main stage, holding a gold-plated submachine gun
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