The Legacy Of The Virkir's

Chapter 05

No one could have expected this: one of the most feared men in New York City, bowing and apologizing for a mistake he hadn't even made.

The lobby was silent and completely still. People who had been filming lowered their phones slowly, as if afraid even the sound of a notification might offend the wrong person.

Arthur straightened, his expression cold. His voice carried through the room.

"Who disrespected him?" he said, each word sharp. "Step forward."

Alastor watched Arthur work. The boy he'd saved from a slave auction had become this. A man who could make a room hold its breath with three words. Good. He'd need that skill when the real trouble started.

Because it would start. It always did.

Not a sound followed. Not a shuffle, not a breath. Everyone knew what that question meant.

The security guards glanced at one another, pale and sweating. Some looked like they wanted to run. Others looked like they might faint.

Then, unexpectedly, someone moved.

The receptionist.

She stepped out from behind her desk, hands trembling slightly but her posture steady. Her gaze went straight to Alastor.

"I… I was the one who didn't make the call," she said quietly. "This happened because I didn't follow procedure. So… whatever punishment there is, I'll take responsibility."

Interesting.

Alastor catalogued the reaction. Genuine accountability. Rare. The kind of person who'd fall on a sword to protect others.

The kind of person who died first when the monsters came.

He should know.

A ripple went through the crowd. People stared at her like she had completely lost her mind.

Arthur's jaw tightened, not in anger this time, but in surprise.

Alastor just watched her while the entire lobby waited for what would happen next.

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the secretary suddenly stepped forward.

"What nonsense are you saying?" she snapped at the receptionist. "You should be fired! People like you shouldn't even be working here. Honestly, you should never be hired anywhere again."

The predator protecting herself by feeding someone else to the wolves. Standard.

Her voice rang through the lobby.

But the crowd didn't buy it, and neither did Alastor.

He glanced at her, unimpressed. "Funny," he said. "You're the one who caused all this. If anyone should be fired, it's you."

He'd killed men for less than this. For much less. The memory of blood on his hands was so recent it might as well be wet.

But that wasn't Leo Vance's style. Leo Vance was reasonable, measured and boring 

Leo Vance made him want to put a fist through a wall.

A few people sucked in a breath and the tension thickened instantly.

Everyone in the building knew the secretary wasn't just a secretary — she was Arthur Temprest's favorite. Firing a random staff member was easy… firing her? That was something else entirely.

The woman froze, her confidence evaporating. The color drained from her face. She slowly turned to Arthur, expecting him to step in, to defend her.

He didn't even spare her a full glance.

"It's up to him," he said flatly.

Her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor, trembling.

One of Arthur's executives rushed forward when he saw the situation. "I'll have her removed from the system immediately, sir. And I'll notify HR to blacklist her—"

Alastor raised a hand, interrupting him. "No."

Destroying her completely wouldn't serve him. He wasn't here for petty revenge.

This woman was nothing. Collateral damage at best.

Everyone stared at him.

"If she were my secretary," he said, "I would've fired her on the spot. No question." His eyes shifted to the terrified woman on the floor. "But she's had… history with your boss. So I'll let her go this once."

Relief hit her so hard she almost sobbed.

"But," Alastor added, "she's done being a secretary. Reassign her to the front desk."

A stunned silence followed.

Then he turned to the receptionist — the same woman who had stepped up earlier, still trembling.

"And you," he said, "will take her position from today on."

Loyalty should be rewarded. It was one of the few things Mr. Orion had taught him that wasn't drenched in blood.

Though knowing the old bastard, even that lesson probably had a body count.

The lobby erupted in whispers. The receptionist stood there in disbelief, hands clutched to her chest, tears welling up as the weight of what just happened sank in.

Arthur nodded once at an executive to carry out Alastor's decision. No one questioned it.

Not after what they had just witnessed.

Alastor glanced at the security guards still groaning on the floor. "As for them," he said calmly, "I'm not pursuing anyone. They were just doing their jobs and they didn't know what was going on."

He'd broken their ribs, not their spirits. They'd heal. Unlike the men he'd left in pieces across three continents during his training.

Mr. Orion had been thorough. 'Never kill when you can maim. Never maim when you can humiliate. Never humiliate when you can ignore.'

But always be ready to kill.

The guards looked up at him, stunned. Some even looked relieved enough to cry.

Alastor then turned to Arthur. "We need to talk. Upstairs."

Arthur nodded instantly.

As they headed toward the elevator, the lobby stayed frozen in place. No one dared breathe too loudly.

Arthur paused and looked back at the crowd. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice dropping into the tone that had made him infamous. "Mr. Vikir is the true owner of Tempest Enterprise. From today on, if anything like this happens again, don't bother coming back to work."

There it was. The name he'd buried ten years ago. Out in the open.

Stupid and reckless. But Arthur had earned the right to his dramatics.

And if it drew out whoever killed his family? Good.

Makes it easier for me. 

The room broke into a ripple of gasps.

Arthur hurried after Alastor into the elevator.

When they reached the top floor, Arthur led him into the CEO's office. The moment the door shut behind them, Arthur's formal facade cracked. His eyes were red and his expression was shaken with relief like he would cry any minute.

"You're finally back…" he muttered, the words almost trembling out of him. "After all these years—"

Arthur looked at him like he'd returned from the dead.

Funny. Alastor had felt dead for most of the past decade.

The parts of him that weren't dead were too angry to feel anything else.

Alastor didn't say anything, but his presence alone made Arthur look even more emotional.

Arthur took a slow breath and the memories hit him all at once. "I didn't have anything. No one cared. You did. That's why I'm alive. That's why Tempest exists."

Alastor looked around the office, taking in how much the company had grown. "You've done well," he said, his voice steady. "You built all of this in a few years. I didn't misjudge you."

He needed Arthur capable and strong. Because when the fire came—and it would come—Arthur would be one of the few people he could trust to stand in it.

Arthur lowered his head, moved by the praise more than he would ever admit. "If you'd told me earlier you were coming back, I would've prepared a welcome banquet."

"No," Alastor cut him off. "I'm not here for that."

Arthur straightened, instantly serious. "Then… what do you need?"

"I need your help," Alastor said. "I'm looking for someone."

Arthur nodded. "Okay."

"Chloe Everstone."

Arthur blinked. "Chloe… Everstone?"

"That's right."

The girl who'd saved him when he had nothing. Who'd looked at a burned, traumatized kid and seen someone worth feeding.

She was in danger. He could feel it the way you feel rain coming.

And he would burn down anyone who touched her.

Alastor's expression didn't change, but something in his voice carried weight—he wasn't asking casually.

He wanted her found.

….. And quickly.