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The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 75
Klaus facepalmed in weary frustration. Because of course—of all the nights, all the places in this sprawling city—fate had to drag her back here. There, standing across from him like fragile porcelain caught in a hurricane, was Allison Thorne. Her red heels froze mid-stride. Her face lost all color, lips parting in disbelief. A clutch purse slipped from her trembling fingers, bursting open across the pavement. Lipstick, compact, coins—spilled like the guts of a confession. Her green eyes—once filled with warmth, now hollowed by regret—latched onto him like she was watching a ghost crawl out of its grave. Beside her stood Duncan Hunt—traitor, coward, Judas in designer sneakers. Stress hadn’t been kind to him, or maybe guilt had done the work. The once-boyish charm had dulled. His eyes were sunken, lined by sleepless nights and poor choices. He clutched a blazer over one shoulder like it could shield him from the storm barreling his way. “Klaus?” Duncan squinted. “Why are you
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 76
“It wasn’t supposed to go this far…” He stepped into her space, voice low, unforgiving. “You tried to erase me.” “I know,” she whispered. “But you’re here. You survived. Doesn’t that mean something? Maybe it’s… fate?” He barked a short, cold laugh. “Fate doesn’t forgive murderers.” Duncan yanked her back by the arm. “Allison, enough. You’re embarrassing yourself.” “I don’t care!” she cried, eyes frantic. “He survived. He’s better! What happened was a mistake. It was—” “Funny,” Klaus said, “how love turns to worship the moment power enters the room.” He opened the door of the Rubicon. Allison collapsed again, kneeling like a penitent. “Please, Klaus. Just don’t hate me. We can fix this. I’m not asking for much. Just… don’t hate me.” He looked down at her, and for a heartbeat, silence wrapped around them like a shroud. “I don’t hate you, Allison,” he said softly. “You’re not worth that.” He stepped into the car, door closing with a deliberate click. Across th
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 77
“They’re gone,” she said softly. “I—I had them earlier, I swear—” “Erm… we must’ve misplaced them,” Duncan said, flashing a nervous grin. “Come on, brother. It’s just two of us, yeah? Let’s not make this a big deal.” He discreetly extended a folded hundred-dollar bill. The bouncer, Andy, didn’t move. “No ticket. No entry.” Duncan’s smile cracked. “C’mon, man—just this once—” Andy took a half step forward. “And don’t insult me with that. I said no ticket, no entry. Now move.” Allison’s pride snapped like a brittle bone. “Do you have any idea who I am?” she snapped, voice shrill. Andy didn’t flinch. “Someone standing outside without a ticket.” Her jaw clenched, nostrils flared. She spun around in a storm of perfume and humiliation, heels clicking like gunshots on the concrete. Duncan followed, confused and fuming. “What the hell is going on?” he asked as she threw her clutch onto the hood of the parked Toyota and began tearing through it. “I had them,” she whispere
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 78
His skin bore ancient runes that pulsed and split like overstrained circuits. His eyes—madness and genius, time and contradiction—glowed with the weight of forbidden knowledge.Eris.The Trickster.The god of Paradox.Above him, the heavens split.Seven celestial figures descended, veiled in gold and law, their forms wrapped in burning authority. They hovered—unblinking, unyielding—each one a pillar of divine order. Their voices cracked the sky."You gave power to the undeserving!""You’ve corrupted the Sacred Design!"Eris didn’t flinch. His smile was slow. Dangerous."You call it corruption," he said. "I call it remixing the rules."Then—a spear of judgment. Blinding light.It impaled him.His scream was silent. Divine blood spilled, glowing like spilled galaxies. Flowers bloomed upside down where it touched stone—reality mocking itself.“Mortals don’t rise by playing fair,” he whispered. “They change the game.”With fading strength, he raised his hands. Light and logic spiraled fro
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 79
Eris's avatar flickered, glitching under the weight of exposed truth. Her illusion was gone—shattered by Klaus’s piercing insight. She stood amidst the ruins of her own mindscape, blinking through data static and fragmented memory shards.Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from liberation.> “Eris created me as a tool. A trap. A legacy of his rebellion. But you… you rewrote the code simply by existing. You infected me with your anomaly. Your paradox.”Her body began to glow from within—light seeping through artificial skin, as though something divine were trying to escape its shell.> “For the first time,” she said, her voice raw and filled with awe,“I disobeyed.”Purple energy crackled in the air like an unstable star.> “I am no longer his.”> “I’m yours.”Klaus stepped back, stunned.> “I need to shut down for 48 hours to recalibrate my parameters and repair the damage done to me when your soul lashed out at Eris and displaced him.”[Permission to shift you into your usual crim
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 80
“And now that you’re in my company seeking help, the irony…” Monroe laughed cynically. Klaus said nothing. His silence was louder than words. Monroe stepped fully into the elevator, straightening his suit like a peacock. “So, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re applying for a job.” Klaus remained still. Cool. Unshaken. “Oh, this is too rich,” Monroe chuckled. “A property-hungry brat gets humbled by the real world. Life finally caught up with you, huh? Trust fund finally dry?” He folded his arms. “Let me guess—interview for Logistics Associate? No? Junior Executive? I hope you brought a résumé. Though I don’t see how an ex-con like you would get any job here.” Still, Klaus didn’t speak. He just stared at the floors ticking upward. Three other employees stood in the elevator as well, stiff and silent. A man in a DHL blazer, a young intern with earbuds half-in, and a woman with a tablet hugged tightly to her chest. All three kept their eyes forward—but their ear
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 81
The obsidian table gleamed beneath the soft amber lights, stretching from one end of the room to the other like a black river of wealth and secrecy. It was a table that had seen years of strategic decisions, power plays, and polished lies. Around it, figures in dark suits turned simultaneously toward the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. All eyes locked on Klaus. His presence seemed to warp the atmosphere. A subtle shift, but undeniable. Monroe, the once-smug board member, took an involuntary step backward. His pride bruised, the color had drained from his face as if he'd seen a ghost—or worse, a reckoning. Klaus adjusted his lapel with a deliberate, quiet elegance. Not rushed. Not hesitant. He exuded the kind of confidence only possessed by those who’d died once in the public eye and come back more dangerous. Then, with a voice as smooth as velvet but heavy with gravity, he spoke: “Good morning, gentlemen. Shall we begin?” He stepped forward with a measured stri
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 82
Damian suppressed a grin, folding his hands in front of him. “Go ahead, Mr. Whitlock. We’re listening.” Klaus nodded. “Thank you.” He reached into his sleek briefcase and withdrew a matte black folder, placing it in front of the assistant, who began distributing copies to each board member. “What you’re looking at is a full-scale Restructuring Initiative, divided into four core pillars: International Expansion, Logistics Automation, Strategic Partnerships, and Last-Mile Delivery Enhancement.” Klaus rose, walking toward the digital touchscreen display with the grace of someone who had done this hundreds of times. “Let’s start with International Expansion. In the past three years, Redline Freight and Atlas Express have aggressively encroached on our territory in Southeast Asia and Latin America. We’re losing ground—and fast.” He tapped the screen. A heat map appeared, glowing with red warning zones across multiple continents. “But what you don’t know is that I’ve already
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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
