The God of War Comeback

Chapter 1

The private jet touched down and rolled to a slow stop on the runway.

Outside, the airport stood silent. No boarding calls, no engines roaring in the distance. Every commercial flight had been grounded for the day, every worker sent home early, all because one man was coming back to the city.

Rows of armed men stood in tight formation, and the moment the jet's door opened, they dropped their heads low, bowing as one body.

"Hail the God of War!"

Their voices struck the air like thunder, echoing off the empty terminal walls.

He was the God of War of this city, the youngest one it had ever known. Men spoke his name in fear before they spoke it in respect; he had broken the strongest battalions of forty countries and never once tasted defeat.

He had torn down empires with his own hands, then rebuilt them and placed his most loyal men at the head of each one. Every regiment under his command carried more than seven hundred soldiers, and each of those regiments was feared enough that no enemy nation dared to test them twice. For years, no one had beaten his men in battle. Not once; the city had grown untouchable because of him, and no other city dared to provoke it.

Alfred Hughes stepped down from the jet, his jaw tight, his eyes scanning the crowd of soldiers with open irritation.

"Why are there so many men waiting for me?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.

Sebastian Parker, his second-in-command, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a calm face, stepped closer. "The higher-ups ordered it, Supreme Commander. They wanted to welcome you properly."

"There was no need for this." Alfred's teeth clenched. "I told them before I left, I don't want no parade and no formation."

Sebastian turned without another word and gave a short hand signal. The soldiers broke formation instantly and cleared out.

When the last of them was gone, Alfred stood alone on the tarmac, the wind pushing against his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for four years.

He was finally back.

Four years since he had been dragged out of this city in chains, his name destroyed, his life burned to the ground in a single night. He remembered every second of it, every detail carved into his memory like a wound that refused to heal.

He was six years old when his parents died in an accident that took everything from him in one afternoon. The Williams family took him in after that, and for a long time he believed it was an act of kindness. But it wasn't; from the moment he stepped into their house, he was treated like something dirty they had been forced to keep. He ate last, he slept in the smallest room, and he was reminded on several occasions that he did not belong.

He refused to let it break him; instead, he worked, he studied, he clawed his way up until he built Alfred Corporations from nothing, a company that eventually pulled the entire Williams family into the spotlight and made them rich beyond anything they had before him, and on the night of his own wedding, they took everything from him.

Someone had drugged his drink; someone had planted a bag of marijuana in his bag. By the time the police arrived, he had no way to explain any of it, no way to defend himself against evidence he never touched. They beat him in the interrogation room, breaking two ribs and his left wrist while asking him questions he had no answers to.

Alfred had never touched a drug in his life; he was sentenced to six years for a crime that was never his.

His adopted brother Reuben's face had been the last thing he saw clearly before they dragged him out of the courtroom. No anger, nor guilt, only the cold satisfaction of a man watching a problem get removed.

"You were never part of this family." He whispered to Alfred's ears

Those words had followed him through that prison cell, every sleepless night, every mile of the war he was later thrown into. He remembered his wife's face too. She never once looked away from him, but she also never came to see him sentenced. She let him walk out of that courtroom alone.

The army found him not long after. Buried in a labour camp with nothing left to lose, Alfred fought because there was nothing else to do, and somewhere along the way fighting became the only thing he was good at.

He rose past soldiers twice his age, past commanders who had spent decades earning their rank, until there was no one left above him. He became the God of War before he turned thirty, the youngest the city had ever produced.

Now he was home, and the Williams family was going to learn exactly what they had built when they threw him away.

The first place he went was his parents' grave. He stood there in silence for a long time, his hand resting on the cold stone, his throat tight. He had not visited in years, and the guilt of that sat heavier on him than he expected.

When he returned to the car, Sebastian was already waiting with a tablet in hand, holding it out toward him.

"Commander!"

"Sebastian." Alfred cut him off without looking up. "We're back in the city now; call me by my name whenever we're with people."

Sebastian hesitated, his mouth opening and closing once before he caught himself; he knew exactly what would happen if the older commanders heard him speak so casually. Still, he nodded and swallowed the rest of his protest.

"Tell me what you found," Alfred said, turning to face him fully now, one eyebrow raised.

"The Williams family is holding a banquet tonight, sir. They've sent an invitation for the God of War to attend. I need your word before I respond."

Every powerful family in the city had heard of his return by now. Not one of them had ever seen his face; whoever he chose to appear for first would be seen as the most important family in the city overnight. And the Williams family, the very people who destroyed him, had grown rich and powerful off his own hands before they threw him away. His jaw locked at the thought of walking into their home as an honoured guest.

"Decline it," he said flatly.

Sebastian nodded and moved to his next item. "Mr. Redmond Kingston sent you a gift." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small black box, opening it to reveal a black card lined in gold, a diamond easily two hundred and thirty carats embedded in its centre.

"It's the first card of its kind in the world. Unlimited credit, and a private team behind it that can secure almost anything you want. Reservations, private events, travel, anything."

Alfred studied the card, then studied Sebastian's face. Gifts like this never came free. A man didn't hand over something like this without wanting something enormous in return.

"What does he want?" Alfred asked, his voice cutting straight through the pleasantries.

Sebastian's shoulders tensed slightly. "His only daughter is sick, sir. It's gotten worse. He's spent his entire fortune on doctors, and none of them can help her. He's desperate, and he'll do anything you ask if you help her."

"I knew it." Alfred's eyes locked onto Sebastian's. "I'll meet him soon, maybe over the weekend."

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by how quickly the answer came, then allowed himself a small smile. "I'll let him know right away."

"And tell him not to send anything else after this. I don't need my identity spreading before I'm ready."

Sebastian's expression shifted then, hesitant. "There's one more thing, sir. Your wife” he stuttered, “She's getting married today."

Alfred's hand curled into a fist without him meaning to. His face went stiff and unreadable; his eyes stayed locked on the small photo Sebastian had pulled up, the image of the woman he had once called his wife. He didn't say a word; he knew without question that she wasn't doing this by choice.

"Take me to the venue," Alfred said, his voice low.

Sebastian straightened. "Yes, sir.”