The King Of War Returns

Chapter 4

For over a decade, Agatha had ruled from the shadows.

As the wife of a powerful tycoon, she used influence and bullets when needed. Families weaker than hers were crushed, their companies stripped away one by one. Any who resisted were erased. That was how the Thornfells rose to dominate Ravenmoor, their name untouchable, their power absolute.

“I won’t give up my company,” Donald said hoarsely, lifting his head once more. “I don’t care who sent you.”

Draco’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin.

“Fine,” he said calmly. “Then let’s make this interesting.”

He motioned to his men, who stepped closer, their eyes locked on Hannah.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with your daughter,” Draco continued casually, his voice dripping with cruelty, “right here in front of you. Let’s see how long you can resist.”

Donald’s eyes widened in horror as he struggled violently against his restraints.

“Don’t you dare…”

Before Donald could finish his sentence, Draco lunged forward and grabbed Hannah by the wrist.

“No! Let me go!” she screamed, struggling violently, but his grip was like iron, crushing and unyielding. Her nails dug into his arm, useless against his strength.

Draco sneered. “You should’ve listened, old man.”

Just then—

Feeeep!

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

A dagger came out of nowhere, spinning violently before burying itself straight through Draco’s wrist.

“ARGH!!!” Draco roared in agony as blood sprayed across the concrete floor. His fingers loosened instantly, Hannah collapsing backward as he clutched his mangled hand, eyes wide with shock.

A calm voice echoed from above.

“Didn’t your mother teach you how to treat a woman?”

Everyone froze.

All heads snapped upward.

A man was perched casually against one of the steel beams near the ceiling, one leg hanging loosely, arms crossed as if he were watching a boring show. His presence felt wrong—too calm, too overwhelming.

Hannah stared in disbelief.

Draco’s face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck are you?!” he bellowed. “Kill him, boys!”

Instantly, the men reached for their weapons, guns clicking as they raised them toward the ceiling.

Gunfire erupted.

Bullets tore through metal and concrete, sparks raining down—but the man was already gone.

“Where’d he go?” one of them shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

Too late.

Swoosh!

A blur streaked through the room.

Slice!

One man screamed as his arm was severed cleanly at the shoulder, blood spraying across the wall like paint.

Stab!

Another collapsed as a blade pierced straight through his throat, his cry dying into a wet gurgle.

Jaden moved like a phantom.

Before the remaining men could even turn, his knee slammed upward into one man’s face, shattering bone. He spun, elbow crushing another’s windpipe. A kick sent a body flying into a stack of crates with a sickening crunch.

Blades flashed.

Blood splattered.

Men dropped one after another, some clutching their wounds, others collapsing instantly—lifeless before they even hit the ground.

In less than twenty seconds, all of Draco’s men were lying lifeless on the ground.