The Heir's Return

Chapter 16. Magnificence

"Seize that bastard! Drag him to the police station!" Oliver Edelweis's voice cracked, sounding more like the shriek of an eagle with a broken wing than the roar of a lion. "I'll make him rot in prison for the rest of his life!"

The curse was the signal. A dozen security guards, their neat uniforms looking ridiculous amidst the chaos, moved in unison.

They were not soldiers, but a pack of wolves forced by their master to pounce on a dragon. Their batons were raised, but their grips betrayed their hesitation. Their war cries sounded hollow, more like a mantra to convince themselves than a real threat.

Javon didn't spare them a glance. His world had narrowed to a single point of focus: the woman in his arms. He looked down, his stormy eyes softening as he gazed at Sherly's pale face. The faint scent of Sherly's perfume mixed with the metallic tang of tension in the air.

"Close your eyes if you're scared," he whispered, his voice deep and calming, an island of tranquility in a sea of fury.

Sherly didn't answer with words. She simply buried her face in Javon's broad chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his back as if he were the only pillar left in a collapsing world.

Dug! Dug! Dug!

Javon's strong, steady heartbeat became the soundtrack to the destruction around them. Strangely, in the midst of this siege, the fear that had gripped her moments ago dissolved, replaced by an irrational sense of security.

"A bunch of trash," Javon hissed, to no one in particular.

Then, the storm broke.

Javon moved. Despite carrying a woman, his movements were not clumsy. On the contrary, Sherly in his arms felt like an axis that gave him perfect balance. He didn't attack; he merely responded. Every movement was lethal efficiency.

A baton shot toward his head. Javon only twisted his body slightly. The baton struck the marble pillar behind him, sending a painful crack and a cloud of white dust into the air. The guard's hand trembled violently.

Brakk!

Javon's elbow jutted backward without warning, precisely hitting the solar plexus of another guard trying to ambush him. The air was forced from the man's lungs in a stifled groan before he collapsed without a sound. A low, sweeping kick, not with brutal force but with a surgeon's precision, struck the fulcrum point of three guards at once. They fell like a line of toppled dominoes.

The choreography of death lasted less than ten seconds.

Fast, accurate, ruthless.

Not a single wasted motion. The dozen security guards who had been so aggressive just moments ago now lay on the cold marble floor, groaning, begging for mercy, or simply unconscious. Their wails became a pathetic closing score.

The sudden silence that followed was more deafening than the previous chaos. The members of the Edelweiss family, accustomed to seeing the world bend to their will, now stared at the scene with wide eyes, their breath caught in their throats.

"Where... where did he learn that demonic art?" someone whispered.

"A dozen men, and he didn't even break a sweat!"

Javon gave them no time to process. He didn't leave. Instead, with Sherly still in his embrace, he turned and began to walk slowly toward them. Each of his steps on the polished marble floor echoed like a death knell.

"Wait, what are you trying to do?" Owen's face was ashen. His aura of superiority evaporated, leaving behind a terrified old man. He took a step back, then another, forgetting his pride. The other family members followed suit, creating a ripple of fear.

"Don't come here! This is armed robbery! I'll sue you!" an uncle shouted, his voice trembling.

"Calm down, young man. We can talk about this," another tried, his tone placating.

Oliver could only stand stiffly. His face was flushed with a mixture of rage and fear, his hand gripping the back of a sofa trembling uncontrollably. Aleesha, as usual, had already vanished behind the crowd, hiding herself in the innermost circle, only occasionally peeking out with horrified eyes.

Only one person tried to hold his ground: Javier.

His calves were indeed trembling, cold sweat drenching his temples, but the hatred in his eyes still burned. The oppressive feeling from the approaching Javon felt like a physical weight.

"I'm from the Conner family," he hissed, gritting his teeth. "If you dare to touch me again—"

SLAP!

The sound exploded in the silence, louder than shattering porcelain. Javon slapped him without holding back an ounce of strength. Half of Javier's face immediately swelled into a red mask, and two of his teeth flew out in a spray of blood.

Javier glared, his eyes watery from shock and pain. "How dare you—"

SLAP!

The second slap. Faster, more precise, more vicious. It landed on the same cheek, sending a wave of agony that made Javier stagger.

"It's useless even if your father were a god," Javon's voice was low and cold. "Here and now, I'm the one hitting you."

After saying that, his leg shot out, kicking Javier in the chest with controlled force.

Brakk!

Javier slammed into the wall hard, slumping to the floor. He looked up, his swollen eyes now containing only pure hatred. "The Conner family... will not let you go..."

Javon planted his foot on Javier's chest, pressing down until the man coughed. "And who the hell is the Conner family?" he asked rhetorically, his voice thundering. "Believe it or not, I can slap you to death right now, before your Conner family even knows you're in trouble."

Javier laughed hoarsely, a laugh laced with blood. "Touch me again, and I'll make sure you can never have children."