The Almighty Dominance

The father sprinted desperately toward his young boy, eyes wild with fear and tears streaming down his face.

As he reached his son, his heart nearly stopped-the pavement was scarred by bullets, each hole barely a hair's breadth from his son's fragile body.

"He's alright, honey!" he shouted, relief shaking his voice. "She missed our boy is safe!"

He clutched his wife tightly, their bodies trembling in shared gratitude.

"What?" Clarissa shrieked in disbelief.

Fury surged through her veins, and she raised her gun again, merciless eyes locked on the helpless child.

Instantly, the father shielded his son, spreading himself protectively. "If you're gonna kill my boy, you'll have to go through me first."

Clarissa sneered viciously. "Fine by me. Cleaning out trash is always a pleasure."

She squeezed the trigger without hesitation.

The father clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the piercing pain. But instead of death, a violent explosion erupted from Clarissa's gun.

The weapon shattered spectacularly, hurling shards of hot metal directly into her face and body.

Clarissa screamed—a raw, agonized cry-as the burning shrapnel sliced into her skin and eyes, sending her reeling to the ground.

The crowd erupted into satisfied murmurs.

"Serves the bitch right."noveldrama

"Instant karma never misses."

"That's divine justice!"

Henrietta's face twisted in panic and anguish. She rushed to her mother's side, frantically grabbing her shoulders. "Mom! Mom, can you hear me?"

Clarissa writhed on the ground, shrieking in pain. "Help me! My face-my eyes! God, the pain!"

Desperation surged through Henrietta. She spun to Bobby, terror filling her voice. "Bobby, do something! Help her!"

Bobby darted toward Alex, urgency in his voice. "Doctor, hurry up! If anything happens to Madame Clarissa, you'll all pay with your lives!"

Alex glanced calmly toward Clarissa, studying the damage coolly as blood seeped from countless lacerations across her face.

With clinical detachment, he said, "Relax. She'll last another two hours at least- nothing fatal."

Bobby's eyes flashed with rage. "You bastard! You'll regret this! Your family is finished!"

Ignoring the threats, Alex swiftly returned his attention to the wounded child.

With steady hands and sharp timing, he treated the boy's wounds swiftly-just in time to catch the critical golden window for trauma care.

Moments later, the wail of sirens cut through the air as the ambulance pulled in.

Bobby didn't wait. He practically dragged the paramedics toward Clarissa, barking commands and threats using the Montclair name as a bludgeon.

Intimidated, the medics hastily loaded Clarissa into the ambulance, speeding off toward the hospital.

A second ambulance arrived moments later, gently carrying the boy and his relieved, grateful parents away from the nightmare.

The father clasped Alex's hand firmly, tears of gratitude filling his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor. You saved our son. We won't ever forget this."

Alex nodded silently, watching as they vanished down the street.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to his car, a shadow of frustration darkening his face.

He had just arrived in Chicago to visit Kingswell's branch, yet already the city's dark underbelly had revealed itself-the arrogance, cruelty, and entitlement of Chicago's ruling families were plain as day.

"Some people are truly human," Alex whispered bitterly, gazing at the blood- stained asphalt, "but others are monsters hiding behind human skin."

In the golden haze of Vancouver's afternoon, a fleet of helicopters roared over the skyline, slamming down hard onto the helipad of the Kingston Governor's Palace.

Rotor blades whipped the air, scattering debris as doors flew open and nearly two dozen figures stormed out.

Dressed in bizarre uniforms, each radiated a palpable aura of menace, their synchronized breathing betraying deadly training. They moved like wolves, ready to strike.

Four guards at the entrance stepped forward, their voices firm yet strained. "This is Kingston property! Get the hell out of here!"

"You're annoying," drawled the leader. He flicked his wrist casually, and the guards sailed backward, mouths spewing blood, bodies crashing onto the stone steps like broken dolls.

With brutal efficiency, the intruders barged inside, guns blazing through corridors. Staff scattered, screams punctuating the chaos as bodies fell.

In the quiet elegance of her office, Jasmine Kingston reviewed documents, oblivious until the gunfire echoed through the hall.

She looked up sharply just as the ornate doors exploded inward, splintering dramatically.

A loyal aide stepped forward bravely. "You can't just—"

His protest was cut short by a vicious blow, knocking him unconscious before he even hit the marble floor.

The leader sauntered in casually, eyes fixed on Jasmine. "Ah, Ms. Kingston, enjoying a quiet day, were we?"

Jasmine stood slowly, defiance in her gaze. "And just who the hell are you?"

He smirked coldly, arrogant and utterly unruffled. "If Vancouver has protectors, I'm the guardian of Chicago. But you, princess, you're not even worthy of my name."

She clenched her jaw, fury sparking in her eyes.

"So, Mr. Nobody, you barge into my home, kill my people, and think you can walk away clean? This is an invasion. You're begging for war."

"War?" He chuckled darkly.

"Sweetheart, wars happen between equals I'm here offering you a simple deal. You come to Chicago tonight, spend the night in my bed, and maybe just maybe-you live."

His words dripped with disdain, each syllable a calculated insult. Jasmine's hands curled into fists, outrage blazing from her every pore.

"Did you lose your goddamn mind?" she snarled, voice sharp as ice. "You think you can strut in here and make demands? Who the hell do you think you are?"

He took a leisurely step forward, smiling without humor. "I'm not negotiating. I'm telling you your place. One snap of my fingers, and you're just another corpse on the floor. Remember your fragility."

Jasmine slammed her hand on the desk, eyes blazing with fury. "You think you're untouchable because you're from Chicago?"

Instantly, armed security guards burst into the room, forming a tight circle around the invaders.

Vann Damme, head of security, stepped forward with steely resolve.

"Mr. Damme, get these pests off my property," Jasmine commanded, voice icy with command.

Vann glared fiercely at the arrogant leader. "You've overstayed your welcome. Get out."

The man smiled with chilling amusement. "Such bravery. Such waste."

Before anyone could react, he vanished in a blur, reappearing inches from Vann's startled face. "Too slow," he whispered.

Vann barely flinched before powerful hands wrapped around his throat.

Panic flared in his eyes as his struggles faded, the strength draining from his limbs.

A savage twist echoed through the room, followed by the grotesque snap of bone.

The intruder tossed Vann's lifeless

body contemptuously at Jasmine's

feet, his eyes glittering with cold cruelty. "Come with me now, Jasmine, or I'll slaughter every soul in this place."

His threat hung thickly in the silence, each word a ruthless promise.

Jasmine stood frozen, fury mingling with helpless dread, realizing this man wasn't

bluffing.