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2025-06-30 13:58:41

Brick’s smirk twitched—but the confidence was gone.

Gone was the swagger, the deep sadistic chuckle.

All that remained was a broken thing beneath Dylan’s boot, his body scorched and crumbling, his strength bleeding out like oil on steel.

He tried to lift a hand—one last feeble protest—but it trembled and collapsed with a clang.

Dylan didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just pressed down harder, the metal of his boot digging deeper into Brick’s throat.

Brick choked, his voice gravelly and raw. He gurgled, eyes wide, pupils shrinking in terror.

“I—I…” Brick rasped, struggling for breath. He coughed, thick strands of blood pooling beneath his neck. “Y-You don’t… have to do this…”

Dylan’s boot pressed down another fraction, cutting off what little air remained. His eye, still glowing dimly, stared cold and unmoved. Every heartbeat echoed like a hammer blow in the corridor’s hush.

Vivian remained frozen behind Dylan, mouth parted, knuckles white around the grip of her torn jacket. She’d witnesse

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361
The younger guard laughed nervously. “That… that’s fake. No one—”“Fake?” Dylan echoed, calm but now his tone carried ice. “Do I look like the kind of man who jokes with property ownership? Or perhaps you’ve never dealt with reality beyond the size of your muscles?”The older guard took an involuntary step back. “That can’t… That’s impossible. Nobody—”Dylan tilted the phone, letting the sunlight catch the embossed seal on the documents. “Check it yourselves. Every line. Every stamp. Do you see it? Do you?”The younger guard’s eyes widened, disbelief etched into his face. “I… I mean… that… that’s really him…”The older one’s jaw tightened. “This… changes… nothing. Maybe he got some… lawyers or something. A trick, a setup…”Dylan’s voice softened, almost conversational, but each word was a knife. “A trick? A setup? My dear gentlemen, a trick implies deceit. This… is reality. A reality you’re about to decide how to handle.”The younger guard’s baton wavered slightly in his hand. “And… w
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The guards laughed, a loud, mocking roar that bounced off the villa’s gates. “You’re hilarious, you know that?” the younger one sneered. “Thinking you own this place! What’s next? You gonna ask us to bow down to you?”“Yeah,” the older one added, chest puffed out, “maybe we should call your delusional friends, see if they know you’re wandering around like some lost kid.”Dylan’s jaw tightened, the calm mask he wore starting to crack slightly. The laughter pressed on his nerves like nails scratching a chalkboard. He could feel the surge building inside him—cold, controlled fury, the kind that didn’t explode recklessly, but promised absolute consequences.The younger guard took a half-step forward, baton swinging lightly in mock menace. “Come on, buddy. Maybe a little kick will jog some sense into you.”“Yeah,” the older guard agreed, kicking one foot back, ready to launch. “Maybe then you’ll finally leave us alone.”Dylan didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached slowly into his jacket pocket
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The older guard narrowed his eyes. “Dangerous? Who said we were afraid of a man who can’t even carry himself properly? You walked here like you’re some kind of prince lost in the streets.”Dylan’s thin smirk widened imperceptibly. “Prince, huh?” He let the word hang in the air. “Interesting. So, let me get this straight: my taxi ride is your measure of status? My mode of transportation decides my worth?”The younger one snorted. “That’s right. That, and the fact you’re standing here thinking you belong.”Dylan leaned just slightly forward, letting the movement ripple across his body like the tightening of a spring. “And what if I do belong? What if every step I take, every breath I draw, is closer to proving it? Does that scare you, boys?”The older guard took a step back instinctively. “Scare us? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re trained. You think a little theatrics will faze us? Hah. You’re delusional.”“Trained,” Dylan repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue slowly, savoring it. “
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The younger guard smirked and spat to the side, his baton tapping lazily against his leg. “You heard us, old boy. Get the fuck out before we kick you out ourselves.” The older one chuckled darkly, folding his arms over his thick chest. “Patience or not, you’re wasting our time. We don’t have room for lunatics who think they’re kings just because they walked through the gates in a taxi.” Their laughter rolled across the empty stretch of pavement, harsh and grating. Dylan’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his cheek. His hands slowly curled into fists, his knuckles whitening. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, forcing himself to hold still, to contain the fire gnawing at his chest. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Get the fuck out, is it?” he repeated softly, almost as though he were confirming the words. The younger guard grinned. “That’s right. Don’t make us say it twice.” The older guard leaned forward, sneering. “Matter of fact, I’ll help you ou
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The late afternoon, Dylan leaned back in the taxi’s worn leather seat, his hand resting against the cool glass of the window as the city blurred past. His jaw was tight, his sharp eyes focused but distant. He had been out for days, moving silently through the city, watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to settle matters on his own terms. The taxi rattled to a stop at the entrance of the villa’s gated community. The iron gates loomed tall and black, polished enough to reflect faint shards of sunlight. Two security guards in crisp navy uniforms stood at their posts, their caps tilted low, their arms folded as though the world outside their watch was beneath them. Dylan stepped out of the car. His boots hit the pavement with a calm, measured weight. He pulled a few bills from his pocket, handed them to the driver, and the taxi rolled away, leaving a faint puff of exhaust in the cool air. Dylan adjusted his jacket, brushed the dust from his sleeves, and turned toward
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Her friend shrieked again, crawling toward her. “Laura! Laura, do something!” “What do you think she can do?” Scar-face taunted, yanking off Laura’s skirt and tossing it aside. “Her brain isn’t saving her now.” Laura bit her lip hard, tasting blood, her chest heaving as fury and terror mingled in her veins. “You’ll regret this,” she whispered hoarsely. “Every last one of you.” “Oh, we’re shaking,” the limping thug mocked, smirking down at her in her state of forced vulnerability. “Save your threats, lady. Nobody’s listening out here.” For a long, excruciating moment, the parking lot was filled with the sound of their cries, the grunts of effort from the thugs, and the wet, echoing slap of fabric hitting concrete. But as the thugs continued their cruel amusement, they began exchanging whispers and snide comments among themselves, laughing quietly when they thought Laura couldn’t hear. “She’s talking too much,” the gold-chain thug muttered to Scar-face. “I swear, lady’s got a

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