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The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 102
"Just cold, hard facts. And the fact is — you were at a crime scene. With a gunshot wound. Alone. Raving.” Klaus’s fists clenched under the table. “I didn’t shoot myself.” “Didn’t you?” Donovan’s voice grew mocking. “Let’s explore a little theory, shall we? What if… you orchestrated the whole kidnapping? You lured Cassandra there, maybe as bait, and Reginald tried to pay you off, but something went wrong. You got desperate. Shot yourself to make it look convincing.” “That’s absurd.” “Oh, it gets better.” Donovan leaned even closer, eyes narrowing. “What if you planned to extort the Thorncrofts? Maybe the deal went sideways and you needed a new angle. So you staged the whole ‘rescued the damsel’ act, banking on sympathy. But then she doesn't recognize you. Oops.” “You’re reaching.” “No, I’m unraveling.” Donovan’s grin widened. “You’re not a savior, Mr. Whitlock. You’re a manipulator. A con man. Maybe even a psychopath. Pretending to be mentally unstable just in case your lit
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 103
The tension in the precinct was thick as smoke. It hung in the air, pressing down on the room with the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Detective Donovan stood tall, his coat draped over his shoulders like a curtain hiding the lies he so carefully managed. The cold fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, adding a surreal quality to the moment, as if even the light itself was uncertain of the truth in this room. Across from him, sitting at the interrogation table with his hands cuffed but a posture so relaxed it could have been a throne, sat Klaus Whitlock. His eyes were icy and calculating, his gaze like a hawk's, taking in every detail, every nuance of the room and its occupants. He seemed utterly unfazed by the cuffs, the sterile environment, or the fact that his freedom had just been torn away. Donovan's voice broke the silence, smooth and practiced. “You look comfortable, Whitlock. It’s almost as if you’re used to being in this situation.” Klaus didn’t answer i
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 104
Klaus’s instincts flared, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. Too off. A brief hesitation. Then his hand shot out, fast, aiming to snatch the cards from the table. He didn’t wait. With a practiced motion, Klaus stepped back, his hand clenched tightly around the cards. His gaze locked onto Donovan’s with the intensity of a predator who had just smelled the scent of betrayal. “You’re with him,” Klaus said, his voice low and unyielding. “You never once gave me the benefit of the doubt. You’re compromised, Donovan.” The detective’s face twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. “Give me the damn cards, Whitlock.” He lunged, but Klaus was already a step ahead, faster than Donovan could follow. In a fluid motion, Klaus pivoted, ducked under Donovan’s arm, and slipped out of the room before the door could slam shut behind him. "Whitlock is escaping!" Donovan’s voice rang out, frantic. His words were a signal, and within seconds, the precinct was alive
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 1
The fluorescent lights of Kennedy International Airport hummed, casting a sterile glow on Klaus Whitlock as he waited by the baggage carousel. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. The air smelled of jet fuel and cheap coffee, the sounds of hurried conversations and rolling suitcases filling the terminal. Five years. Five long, agonizing years separated him from Allison, from his life. He pictured her face—the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the warmth of her hand in his. He had played this moment in his head a thousand times. Would she be waiting for him? Would she run into his arms, tell him she never stopped believing in him? He had held onto that hope like a lifeline, the one thing that had kept him sane behind those prison walls. A voice shattered his thoughts. “Klaus Whitlock?” Two uniformed officers stood before him, their expressions grim. Before he could react, they were leading him away, through the maze of corridors. The faces of returning travelers bl
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 2
He had spent five years holding onto a dream.Klaus stood frozen, his hands trembling as the bouquet of roses and the carefully chosen cake slipped from his grasp. The flowers, once vibrant, now seemed to wilt under the weight of his devastation. The cake—meant to celebrate their love—felt like a cruel joke, a painful reminder of his misplaced hope. He had given everything to Allison. He had endured prison, humiliation, and endless nights of despair clinging to the belief that she would be waiting for him. He had sacrificed for her, for her family, only to be discarded like a broken, unwanted relic of the past. His breath came in ragged gasps as Allison’s cold eyes bore into him, devoid of the love he had spent five years holding onto. "You really want me to leave?" His voice cracked, betraying the whirlwind of emotions clawing at his chest. “After everything I’ve done for you?” Her expression hardened, her gaze impassive. “I don’t know why you thought you could just show up here
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 3
His tone dripping with casual malice. “I need Klaus Whitlock taken care of. Make it look like an accident.” Allison turned back to the celebration, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. But the joy no longer felt real. Klaus jolted awake, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Pain flared through his chest with each inhale, his ribs screaming in protest. Distant, muffled sounds swam around him—a low hum of voices, the soft shuffle of feet. His head throbbed, a dull pounding at the base of his skull. Memories crashed into him all at once. Storming out of his father-in-law’s house. The check—torn and discarded in a fit of rage. The cab ride, his mind a whirlwind of betrayal. Then, the sudden collision—a black Concord slamming into the side of his taxi at a deserted intersection. The screech of metal, the shattering of glass, the world flipping into chaos. Then—nothing. Now, he was here. Bound. Helpless. Footsteps approached. Klaus forced his bleary eyes open and found hi
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 4
The mortuary was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the air vents. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting shadows along the cold, sterile walls. Then, the mortician’s face twisted in sheer terror. His breath hitched as his eyes darted toward the funeral table. “G-Ghost…” Francis stammered, his voice barely a whisper. His body went rigid, his eyes rolling back—then he collapsed, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Klaus, crouched nearby, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His pulse remained steady, but his mind was already calculating his next move. Footsteps. Voices drifted from the hallway, growing louder by the second. He had to hide. Without hesitation, Klaus slipped beneath the nearest funeral table, pressing his body against the cold tile. The door creaked open. A group of people entered, their movements crisp and deliberate. Among them was a stern-faced man in a white lab coat, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Beside him stood an elderly gentleman with nearly s
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 5
Klaus, now miles from the hospital, found himself in the back of a dimly lit café, the hum of conversation blending with the clinking of glasses. His heart was still pounding. The mortuary. The escape. The system. He exhaled sharply and focused. With a thought, he tapped into the strange presence lurking in his mind. A glowing interface materialized in his vision. [Name: Klaus Whitlock] [Skills: Perception (E Grade) // Mirage (F Grade)] He frowned. This still didn’t make sense. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Then, another notification blinked into existence. [Mission: Earn 10 million dollars using the gift of gambling.] [Reward: 10,000 coins, 1,000 EXP, Steeze +10, One Skill Upgrade.] [Failure to complete the task within the time frame (5 hours) will result in severe penalties.] Klaus nearly choked on his breath. "Excuse me?" he muttered under his breath. Ten million dollars? That wasn’t gambling—that was lunacy. His fingers drummed against the table as he considered his o
Latest Chapter
CHAPTER 104
Klaus’s instincts flared, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something was off. Too off. A brief hesitation. Then his hand shot out, fast, aiming to snatch the cards from the table. He didn’t wait. With a practiced motion, Klaus stepped back, his hand clenched tightly around the cards. His gaze locked onto Donovan’s with the intensity of a predator who had just smelled the scent of betrayal. “You’re with him,” Klaus said, his voice low and unyielding. “You never once gave me the benefit of the doubt. You’re compromised, Donovan.” The detective’s face twisted in a mix of anger and frustration. “Give me the damn cards, Whitlock.” He lunged, but Klaus was already a step ahead, faster than Donovan could follow. In a fluid motion, Klaus pivoted, ducked under Donovan’s arm, and slipped out of the room before the door could slam shut behind him. "Whitlock is escaping!" Donovan’s voice rang out, frantic. His words were a signal, and within seconds, the precinct was alive
CHAPTER 103
The tension in the precinct was thick as smoke. It hung in the air, pressing down on the room with the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Detective Donovan stood tall, his coat draped over his shoulders like a curtain hiding the lies he so carefully managed. The cold fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, adding a surreal quality to the moment, as if even the light itself was uncertain of the truth in this room. Across from him, sitting at the interrogation table with his hands cuffed but a posture so relaxed it could have been a throne, sat Klaus Whitlock. His eyes were icy and calculating, his gaze like a hawk's, taking in every detail, every nuance of the room and its occupants. He seemed utterly unfazed by the cuffs, the sterile environment, or the fact that his freedom had just been torn away. Donovan's voice broke the silence, smooth and practiced. “You look comfortable, Whitlock. It’s almost as if you’re used to being in this situation.” Klaus didn’t answer i
CHAPTER 102
"Just cold, hard facts. And the fact is — you were at a crime scene. With a gunshot wound. Alone. Raving.” Klaus’s fists clenched under the table. “I didn’t shoot myself.” “Didn’t you?” Donovan’s voice grew mocking. “Let’s explore a little theory, shall we? What if… you orchestrated the whole kidnapping? You lured Cassandra there, maybe as bait, and Reginald tried to pay you off, but something went wrong. You got desperate. Shot yourself to make it look convincing.” “That’s absurd.” “Oh, it gets better.” Donovan leaned even closer, eyes narrowing. “What if you planned to extort the Thorncrofts? Maybe the deal went sideways and you needed a new angle. So you staged the whole ‘rescued the damsel’ act, banking on sympathy. But then she doesn't recognize you. Oops.” “You’re reaching.” “No, I’m unraveling.” Donovan’s grin widened. “You’re not a savior, Mr. Whitlock. You’re a manipulator. A con man. Maybe even a psychopath. Pretending to be mentally unstable just in case your lit
CHAPTER 101
Klaus sank into the cold, metallic chair, the clang of steel echoing through the sterile interrogation room. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, humming like the wings of some mechanical wasp waiting to sting. His heart pounded against his ribcage, heavy with disbelief. They believed him. Reginald Thorne — polished businessman, beloved philanthropist, grieving father. The perfect mask. A titan of influence with connections on speed dial and his name engraved on a few charity plaques across the city. And who was Klaus? A half-naked, wounded man dragged in by officers who didn’t know they had a billionaire in their midst. His body was laced with strange scars and a fox tattoo. His tale — absurd, incoherent to them. Something out of a dime-store thriller. The kind of story that gets you a padded cell, not justice. The system had failed him once. And now, it was happening again. But Klaus Whitlock wasn’t the kind of man to stay down. No, not anymore. The world had tried to e
CHAPTER 100
Klaus lay on the ground, motionless, his body pale and smeared with dirt and dried blood. A young officer knelt beside him, touched his neck—then frowned. “He’s got a pulse… and breathing. He’s alive!” “What?!” Reginald’s eyes widened in disbelief. He was shot—he should be dead. How? The officer helped Klaus sit up. To everyone’s astonishment, Klaus slowly opened his eyes. They were sharp. Focused. “Get him a blanket,” another officer called. Moments later, Klaus stood shakily on his feet, draped in emergency foil. He looked directly at Reginald, who was now being helped to his feet and limping toward the exit with two officers holding his arms. Allison’s mouth fell open as Klaus walked beside them. His presence was surreal—like a ghost that refused to fade. “You...” Reginald murmured, his voice barely audible. “You’re... supposed to be...” “Dead?” Klaus said, lips curling slightly. “You’d be surprised how often people get that wrong.” Reginald couldn’t speak. He
CHAPTER 99
Klaus immediately twisted his fingers mid-air, activating his aura manipulation. A sudden gust of invisible force slammed against the pistol in Reginald's hand, launching it out of his grip. The gun clattered across the tiled floor like a fallen idol. Before Reginald could blink, Klaus was already in motion—he surged forward, slammed his boot into Reginald’s stomach, and sent him hurtling across the room. The older man crashed back-first into the wall with a sickening thud, dislodging a dusty portrait that fell and shattered on the floor beside him. "You will pay for everything you’ve done," Klaus growled, his voice like thunder churning in the clouds. "This ends now." Reginald wheezed and coughed, laughing through the pain. “You think this ends just because you say so?” he hissed. “You arrogant brat.” Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he pulled himself up to a half-sitting position. “So what if you expose me? You should have just stayed dead. You were a ghost. You w
CHAPTER 98
Her lips painted blood red. Her golden hair curled to cruel perfection. Reginald was gone. The room fell silent—except for the soft hum of hidden cameras. Allison crawled onto the bed like a predator in heat. “You’re so beautiful when you’re helpless,” she whispered, fingers trailing sensually along his jawline, down his chest, over his stomach. Klaus didn’t move. She leaned in and kissed him—long, slow, deliberate. Her hands explored him with performative lust, like an actress in a twisted play. Then, just as her fingers slid under the edge of his waistband, he stirred. Weakly. Convincingly. “W…why?” he rasped, his voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?” Allison paused—caught off guard. Then she laughed. It wasn’t joy. It was madness. “Because you deserve it,” she hissed, her breath hot against his cheek. “You dared to think you were untouchable. You rejected me. You humiliated my father. You walk around like the world belongs to you.” She leaned down and kis
Chapter 97
Klaus Whitlock lifted his hands slowly—deliberately—as if surrender were a kind of art form. His eyes glinted with a dangerous calm, and the corners of his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile—more of a dare than a plea. The black-clad agents surrounding him hesitated for just a breath, caught in the tension of the moment, then surged forward like starving dogs unleashed upon prey. Let them tackle him. Let them beat him down. His smirk never wavered. Not even once. Boots slammed brutally into his ribs. A baton cracked hard across his shoulder. Someone drove a knee forcefully into the back of his neck. Klaus groaned—a sound that was pure performance. Beneath the chaotic blur of limbs, shouts, and violence, his fingers moved with elegant precision, dancing in the shadows. He slipped a phone from one of the agents—a sleek, cutting-edge model, no doubt encrypted and easily traceable. But Klaus didn’t care about the data. Not now. What mattered at this moment—was th
CHAPTER 96
Guiding him through what felt like an underground corridor—cold cement underfoot, the air damp and stale—Klaus allowed his captors to push him forward, his senses heightened, brain mapping every twist and turn. It wasn’t fear that gnawed at him—it was calculation. He was counting steps, memorizing patterns. Cataloging breathing rates. Not theirs—his. He heard a metal door creak open. A shove sent him stumbling forward. Then silence. Just him, the darkness, and the muffled thrum of a generator somewhere deep in the bowels of this forgotten place. Klaus remained still. Then slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands—and tore the hood free. He was in a windowless room, dimly lit by a flickering overhead bulb. No camera. No visible guards. Cement walls, stale air. They’d made one critical mistake. They left him alone. A slow smirk curled on his lips. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. Klaus’s eyes shimmered faintly as he activated his Phantom Eyes. The room arou
