2026-03-27 19:18:54The smell of gunpowder and the metallic scent of blood mixed with the damp aroma of soaked wool carpeting inside The Vault’s VVIP room. A shattered massive aquarium had turned the casino floor into a deadly glass swamp. Water pooled ankle-deep, dragging along crystal shards and the bodies of unfortunate guards.
Alaric Thorne stood upright in the middle of the chaos. His breathing was steady, as if the distant sirens and screams were nothing more than background noise. In front of him, Julian Thorne crawled backward, trying to escape his brother—who now looked like something out of hell.
“Wait, Alaric! We can talk!” Julian shouted, his voice hoarse with fear. “The Italian mafia—they came to me! I was only trying to protect Father’s company!”
Alaric didn’t respond. He stepped forward, each footstep splashing through the water like a death knell. With one swift motion, he grabbed Julian by the throat and lifted him. Julian’s weight meant nothing against the strength Alaric had kept hidden.
“Protect the company?” Alaric whispered, his face inches from Julian’s turning blue. “You brought leeches into our home, Julian. You let them drain Thorne Group dry just to satisfy your fragile ego.”
Suddenly, a side door burst open. Three men with submachine guns rushed in—the last remnants of the mafia forces Maia hadn’t eliminated.
“Master, down!” Maia shouted from the upper balcony.
Alaric reacted instantly. He used Julian as a human shield while pulling a Glock from his waistband. Bang! Bang! Two precise shots tore through the attackers’ throats. The third tried to fire, but his head exploded first from Maia’s sniper shot in the darkness.
Alaric released Julian, who collapsed, gasping for air. Amid the chaos, the satellite phone in Alaric’s jacket vibrated. Its ringtone was distinct—an emergency signal only the head butler of Thorne Estate could activate.
Alaric answered without taking his eyes off Julian. “Speak.”
“Master Alaric…” The voice on the other end trembled. “Master Arthur… he’s collapsed in his study. Third heart attack. The doctors say… these are his final hours. He keeps calling your name.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The satisfaction of crushing Julian vanished instantly, replaced by a weight Alaric had long avoided. His father—the undefeated Lion of New York—had finally bowed to death.
“Prepare the helicopter on this building’s roof. Now,” Alaric ordered curtly.
He ended the call and looked down at Julian, still struggling on the floor. Alaric kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the cold water.
“You’re lucky, Julian. The angel of death is coming for Father tonight—not you,” Alaric said coldly. He turned toward Seraphina, who was still trembling beneath an overturned gaming table. “Maia, take this woman and Julian to the underground cells at Vance Global headquarters. Don’t let them die—but make sure they understand who owns their lives now.”
“As you command, Master,” Maia replied, descending from the balcony with feline precision.
Alaric rushed toward the private elevator that would take him straight to the rooftop. Below, Manhattan stretched endlessly in lights, but his mind was already back at Thorne Estate.
Thorne Estate, 3:15 AM.
The Thorne mansion felt like a fortress in mourning. The main corridors were dim, lit only by faint lamps outside the Patriarch’s chamber. Alaric walked quickly, his suit still stained with blood and gunpowder. Doctors and nurses stepped aside as he passed, clearing the way for the sole heir.
He opened the door.
Inside, the sharp scent of medicine filled the air. Arthur Thorne lay on his massive bed, surrounded by advanced medical equipment—none of which could delay fate.
Arthur’s eyes opened slightly as he sensed Alaric’s presence. “You… little bastard… you finally came…”
Alaric sat beside the bed, staring at the man he once saw as a cruel god. “I came to watch you surrender, Father. You always said a Thorne must never show weakness. Look at you now.”
Arthur smiled faintly—a bitter, knowing smile. “I cast you out on purpose, Alaric. I knew Julian wouldn’t last a day without my power. But you… you didn’t just come back rich. You came back a predator.”
His breathing grew ragged. He reached for Alaric’s hand, his frail fingers still carrying surprising strength.
“Listen… Thorne Group is surrounded. Not just by business enemies, but by your other siblings abroad. They’ll come like vultures the moment I die.”
Arthur pulled a small velvet box from beneath his pillow and handed it to Alaric. Inside was a pure gold signet ring engraved with an eagle clutching the world.
“Be a more ruthless Patriarch than I ever was, Alaric. Show no mercy… not even to your own blood. Promise me…”
The heart monitor beside the bed suddenly let out a long, continuous tone.
Beeeeep…
Arthur’s hand fell limp. His eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling as if witnessing the end of the empire he had built with blood and sacrifice.
Alaric did not cry. He simply stood there, absorbing the heavy silence in the room. Slowly, he took the eagle ring and placed it on his finger. It felt cold—but he could sense the power and responsibility flowing through the metal.
The door opened quietly. Maia entered, her head bowed deeply in respect. “Master… the medical team has confirmed the Patriarch has passed.”
Alaric rose. His posture straightened, his aura completely transformed. He was no longer Alaric the avenger—he was Alaric, the ruler of Thorne.
“Contact the board of directors and every head of business unit worldwide,” Alaric commanded, his voice now carrying absolute authority. “Tell them the funeral will be held in two days. And inform them… from this moment on, every decision rests in my hands. Anyone who is absent or questions my authority will be treated as a traitor to the family.”
Maia bowed even deeper, dropping to one knee behind him. “As you command, Master Thorne. The entire shadow unit is ready to carry out a full purge.”
Alaric walked toward the large window overlooking the first light of dawn rising over Manhattan. The sunlight caught the ring on his finger, reflecting a blinding glow.
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11
Arthur Thorne’s funeral did not feel like a final tribute to a man; it felt more like a summit of apex predators at the top of the food chain. A light drizzle wrapped around St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan, deepening the oppressive gloom. Hundreds of men in black suits and dark glasses lined the sidewalks, each with hands never far from inside their jackets.Alaric Thorne stood in the front row, directly before his father’s sealed bronze coffin. The eagle signet ring on his finger glinted beneath the cathedral’s dim chandeliers. Beside him, Maia stood in a sleek but functional black dress, her eyes constantly scanning every mourner who entered.“Master,” Maia whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the priest’s prayers. “Your half-brothers from the European and Asian branches have just landed. They didn’t come to mourn. Each brought their own mercenary units and are on their way here.”Alaric didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the coffin. “Let them come in. I want to see
10
The smell of gunpowder and the metallic scent of blood mixed with the damp aroma of soaked wool carpeting inside The Vault’s VVIP room. A shattered massive aquarium had turned the casino floor into a deadly glass swamp. Water pooled ankle-deep, dragging along crystal shards and the bodies of unfortunate guards.Alaric Thorne stood upright in the middle of the chaos. His breathing was steady, as if the distant sirens and screams were nothing more than background noise. In front of him, Julian Thorne crawled backward, trying to escape his brother—who now looked like something out of hell.“Wait, Alaric! We can talk!” Julian shouted, his voice hoarse with fear. “The Italian mafia—they came to me! I was only trying to protect Father’s company!”Alaric didn’t respond. He stepped forward, each footstep splashing through the water like a death knell. With one swift motion, he grabbed Julian by the throat and lifted him. Julian’s weight meant nothing against the strength Alaric had kept hidde
9
Dawn broke over the Manhattan skyline, casting light across the cold glass of towering skyscrapers. Inside his private office, Alaric Thorne stood by the window, sipping his strong espresso. On a leather sofa in the corner, Seraphina Vance lay curled up weakly, wrapped in a silk blanket with an empty gaze. The remnants of last night’s “punishment” were still visible on her reddened wrists and shoulders.She was no longer the proud socialite who once ruled lavish parties. She was nothing more than the wreckage now entirely owned by Alaric.“Get up, Seraphina,” Alaric’s voice cut through the silence, cold and emotionless. “Your time for self-pity is over.”Seraphina flinched, clutching the blanket tighter. “What more do you want, Alaric? You’ve already taken everything… you’ve destroyed me.”“I didn’t destroy you. I simply showed you your rightful place,” Alaric replied, turning to face her with a look of disdain. “Now, you’re going to repay your debt for staying alive. There’s a secret
8
The mercenary attack on Thorne Estate was suppressed in less than thirty minutes. Maia and the Thorne shadow unit moved like ghosts, neutralizing enemies one by one in the darkness of the corridors. Seraphina Vance, who had been screaming hysterically with a detonator in her hand, now lay collapsed on the floor of Alaric’s soundproof private study.The detonator turned out to be fake. Seraphina had lost everything and gone mad—this was her final attempt to gain the attention of the man she once looked down on.Alaric sat in his chair, staring at the woman before him with an icy gaze. Seraphina looked disheveled; her gold dress was torn in several places, her blonde hair tangled, her breathing uneven from both fear and… misplaced desire.“You wanted to blow me up, Seraphina?” Alaric asked, his voice low and threatening. “Or did you just want to get back into my room?”Seraphina crawled closer, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. “Alaric… you don’t understand. Dominic was a monster
7
News of Julian Thorne’s downfall spread through Manhattan’s elite like a bomb explosion. Overnight, Arthur Thorne’s favored son lost everything—his wealth, his dignity, even his inheritance—seized by a mysterious figure who turned out to be the very person they had cast out a year ago.Alaric Thorne stood on the balcony of his new office, gazing at the towering Thorne Group skyscraper in the distance. In his hand, an old phone vibrated. Only one number appeared on its dark screen—a number he never expected would contact him this soon.“Speak,” Alaric said coldly as he answered.“You learn quickly, Alaric,” came the heavy, hoarse voice on the other end. Arthur Thorne. There was no pride in his tone, only the dry acknowledgment of a tyrant. “Julian was a weak pawn, but you destroyed him in a way that was… inefficient. You let him live.”“I let him live so he can watch me take your seat, Father,” Alaric replied without hesitation.A brief silence followed. “Come to Thorne Estate tonight.
6
The headquarters of Vance Global had now transformed into Alaric Thorne’s command center. Behind the massive mahogany desk that once belonged to Dominic, Alaric sat calmly, gazing at the Manhattan skyline through bulletproof glass. On the monitor before him, the stock charts of Julian Thorne’s company were in free fall.Alaric sipped his bitter black coffee. “How is he reacting, Maia?”Maia stood in the corner of the room, her fingers dancing over the keyboard of her encrypted laptop. “Julian is panicking, Master. He just lost his logistics contract at the East Port. He’s contacting all his connections, but not a single one dares to pick up. They know who’s behind this attack.”“Good. Let him feel suffocated,” Alaric said coldly. “And what about Evelyn?”“She’s waiting outside. Completely broken, though she still hopes you’ll show her mercy.” Maia glanced toward the door with a disdainful look. “She just received a message from Julian. He asked her to find out who the new owner of Van
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