Chapter 132
THe who has overcome his fears will truly be free.”
Aristotle
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As Alex strolled into the old mansion all by himself, he couldn’t help but notice the bedlam inside.
Thugs milled about in a frenzy, weapons clanking, voices raised.
Some of them were bent over makeshift tables, arguing about their next move; others were testing the edges of their knives and machetes with manic grins
It didn’t take a genius to see they’d been summoned in a hurry–half of them still had beer bottles in hand, eyes wild.
Alex paused at the threshold, expression twisted with disgust.
Look at them, he thought, a ragtag bunch of cheap hoodlums chasing the next payday.
To them, he was just another face in the crowd–nothing special. They hardly paid him any mind.
“You sure Kingston’s men will come?” a tall, wiry guy asked, voice threaded with a jittery excitement.
“Damn right they will,” sneered another, stroking the blade of a freshly–sharpened machete.
“We’re going to war. Tonight, we take all of Vancouver.”
“Let’s butcher every last one of ‘em!” someone else roared. “They send a hundred, we send ‘em back in body bags.”
A wave of mad laughter rippled through the hall.
“I heard every Kingston is headed our way,” an eager voice piped up.
“Why don’t we take bets on how many each of us can kill?” a rat–faced thug jeered, eyes alight with glee.
A potbellied man with a nose ring nudged his buddy, jerking a thumb at Alex.
“Get a load of that skinny kid,” he snorted. “Hey, twig boy, you lookin‘ to join our little bloodbath pool?”
“He’s so scrawny,” the friend chimed in, swigging beer from a can “Surprised he hasn’t been offed already.”
A round of mocking chuckles rose up, echoing in the vaulted foyer
“When we’re done, I’m grabbing all the Rolexes and gold chains off those dead Kingston bastards,” bragged a weasel–faced man, eyes glittering with greed.
Across them, someone methodically scraped a whetstone over a blade, metal whining under the pressure.
“This is my first time killing anyone,” the thug announced proudly, voice shaking with a deadly excitement. “I’m going for a pentakill.”
Another was tinkering with a tripod and camera, clearly determined to catch every drop of blood on film.
Alex tuned them out. His mind locked on one priority: Sophia.
Without so much as a glance at the rowdies, he headed straight for the looming mansion at the estate’s center.
At the entrance stood two guards, both built like brick walls, arms crossed over their chests.
“Halt,” one barked. “This is Boss Harlan’s place. Scram, or you’ll regret it.”
“He summoned me,” Alex said coolly. “Take it up with him if you’ve got a problem.”
The guards exchanged a doubtful look.
chapter 1922.
Boss called you, huh?” the second one growled, raking his gaze in Alex’s shoes to his hair.
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That’s right,” Alex replied calmly, not budging. “If you don’t believe me, you can turn me away. See how that goes for you.” The first guard snorted.
“Let him through. If he’s lying, he won’t last three seconds inside
He stepped aside with a crooked grin.
“Go on, kid. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. The boss is in a foul food–Jasper’s flasco has him breathing fire. You might wanna make your peace with God before you head in.”
Alex brushed past them with a measured stride, tossing a quiet reply over his shoulder.
“Not planning on dying tonight, thanks.”
He barely made it down the hallway before nearly colliding with a haid balancing a tray of drinks. She looked startled, cheeks flushing when her eyes landed on his face.
“P–pardon me,” she stammered, fighting to keep the tray level.
“No worries,” Alex said, voice clipped but polite. “I’m looking for Harlan. He sent for me. Where is he?”
Her blush deepened.
“I–I’ll show you…”
Leading him down a long, dim corridor, she stopped at an imposing set of double doors.
“Master Harlan’s study,” she whispered. “But… he’s in a terrible mood over what happened with Jasper, so please knock gently.”
“Thanks,” Alex said with a slight nod.
She hovered a second too long, clearly fishing for any scrap of small talk, but Alex’s attention was glued to the door.
Disappointed, she scurried off.
Alex raised his hand to knock, paused, then smirked.
Instead of knocking, he slammed his foot into the door, sending it crashing open so hard the hinges screamed.
“Who the hell-!” came a furious roar from inside.
Alex stepped into the room, eyes calm and cold.
“Who the hell what?” he fired back, voice dripping with mockery.
Behind a massive desk stood Harlan: a thick–necked man with the swagger of a self–made tyrant.
His fists clenched at the audacity.
“Who are you?” he growled, eyes dark with rage.
Alex feigned a wounded look.
“You call me here and already forgot who I am? That stings, big guy.”
A glimmer of realization dawned in Harlan’s eyes.
“You’re Alex, the one who stirred up a hornet’s nest with my boy. How’d you get past my men?”
Alex shrugged, flicking dust off his sleeve.
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“oh I don’t know. Guess your entire army of grunts Isn’t exactly–tler. Most of fern barely looked at me some even gave me directions
Harlan’s nostrils flared.
He was used to people trembling when they stepped foot in his domain. But this kid?
Completely fearless.
It was like he was strolling into a convenience store to pick up mill
“What are you?” Harlan murmured, an uneasy flutter in his stomach.
Something about Alex radiated danger–an invisible aura that prickled the hairs at the back of his neck.
He remembered what it was like to stand near Jericho Kane, that legendary
ry terror whose mere presence made him sweat bullets.
But Alex was somehow worse, and Harlan’s heart drummed with real fear.
Alex dropped onto a leather couch as if he owned the place.
“Let’s just say I’m in another league,” he answered lazily, eyes narrowing. “Now, cut the crap. Where’s Sophia?”
Harlan swallowed, trying not to choke on his own tension.
“She’s… she’s in my bedroom,” he said, voice shaking.
Something lethal flickered behind Alex’s eyes.
The air in the room felt like a blade pressed against Harlan’s throat
“You touch her?” Alex asked, voice calm but heavy with the promise of violence.
“No, I–I didn’t lay a finger on her!” Harlan blurted, hands lifting in defense.
Alex’s gaze stayed razor–sharp.
“Then explain why you dragged me out here. Let’s hear it.”
Harlan opened his mouth, but no words came. The silence was suffocating, his mind a tangled mess of fear.
Alex leaned forward, impatience snapping in his voice.
“You wanted answers about what happened to your son, right?”
Harlan cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak.
“Yes… yes, that’s right.”
In a flash, Alex’s expression hardened.
“Kneel.”
A crushing force that felt almost supernatural pummeled Harlan to his knees.
His arms trembled under the weight, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Your son decided to throw a wild tantrum at someone else’s banquet,” Alex said, circling him like a predator.
“Did you never teach him manners?”
Harlan’s tongue felt heavy, words stumbling out.
“L… L…”
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Chapter 132
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Alex placed a hand on Harlan’s broad shoulder, but there was no confort in that touch only the cold promise of who held the upper hand.
Seeing the once–mighty gangster crumble like a schoolyard bully faced with a true fighter was almost pitiful.
“You think Vermont’s lord backing you makes you top dog?” Alex hissed near his car.
“Don’t forget Kingston’s got the King behind him. Would you like o die under the King’s wrath–right alongside Jericho Kane?”
A jolt of sheer terror shot through Harlan.
Jericho Kane’s name already turned his guts to ice, but the King? That was a whole new level of nightmare. He felt like a man who’d bet his life savings on a rigged game, only to realize the dealer was the devil himself. “I… I’m sorry…” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper. His knees shook, breath coming in ragged gasps. Gone was the brash gangster who lorded over half the city. Now, he looked more like a child caught in a monster’s claw.
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