Jones stood at the edge of the rooftop, staring down at the chaos below. The college courtyard was in disarray, factions had drawn their battle lines, and the air was thick with tension. His crew stood behind him, waiting for his word. This was it. The final move. The war against Clinton had raged longer than he had anticipated, but now, it was time to end it. He turned to his second-in-command, Ryan, who had a grim expression. "Clinton is holed up in the administration building. He’s expecting us," Ryan said. Jones smirked. "Good. Then let’s not disappoint him." His team nodded. There was no room for hesitation now. Clinton had ruled through fear and manipulation, turning the college into his personal empire. But Jones had chipped away at his foundation, and now it was crumbling. They had fought too hard, sacrificed too much. Clinton had humiliated, tortured, and killed too many. This wasn’t just a battle for control anymore. It was a fight for vengeance. Jones led his

The air inside the hideout was thick with tension. Jones sat at the worn-out table, hands clasped together, deep in thought. Clinton’s final words played on a loop in his mind. "You just put a target on your back, Jones. The people who run this school… the real power? They don’t like change." What the hell did that mean? Across from him, Kayla leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “This doesn’t sit right with me,” she said. “Clinton’s always been arrogant, but the way he said it…” She shook her head. “It’s like he knew something we don’t.” Isaac, his left eye swollen from the earlier fight, exhaled sharply. “And what’s worse? He seemed happy about it. Like he wanted us to be paranoid.” Jones gritted his teeth. That was exactly what Clinton wanted, to keep him looking over his shoulder. But he wasn’t about to fall into that trap. Then the door creaked open. Everyone snapped to attention, ready for a fight. But the person standing there wasn’t a threat. At least, not an obviou

The weight of Adrian’s victory pressed down on Jones like a vice. The video on the phone was proof of Adrian’s meticulous planning, his ability to stay ten steps ahead. But Jones wasn’t about to let this be the end. Adrian was still within reach, just steps away, strolling toward the exit as if he had already won. His confidence was infuriating. Jones clenched his fists. Not this time. Adrian had played his game. Now, it was Jones’s turn. “You think this is over?” Jones’s voice cut through the silence. Adrian paused. His smirk returned as he turned his head slightly. “It should be. You’re in checkmate.” Jones exhaled, his pulse steady. “Not yet.” Then he moved. A blur of motion. Adrian barely had time to turn before Jones launched forward, closing the gap between them with explosive speed. A punch flew toward Adrian’s face. He dodged, but just barely. Too late. Jones had predicted the sidestep. His knee shot up, slamming into Adrian’s ribs with a brutal force that sent him

The gym was still. The only sounds were the ragged breaths of the fallen and the distant echoes of Clinton’s last words.We burn this place to the ground.Jones’s pulse hammered in his skull. The weight of exhaustion pressed on him, but the fire in his chest burned hotter. Blood dripped from his brow, mixing with the sweat on his skin. His body screamed in protest, but his mind was sharp—calculating. He had won the fight, but Clinton had set the board for war.Kayla and Isaac flanked him, their eyes fixed on the retreating figures disappearing into the night. Shadows stretched across the wreckage of Blackwood’s battleground, whispering of battles yet to come.Jones wiped the blood from his mouth. He couldn’t show weakness. Not now. Not ever.“This isn’t over,” he muttered.Isaac exhaled sharply. “Feels like it is.”Kayla shot him a glare, then turned back to Jones. “What’s the move?”Jones looked down at Adrian, broken on the floor, barely conscious. The bastard had taken him to his l

The traitor took a step back, eyes darting between Jones and Clinton, weighing his next move. He had played his part well, lurking in the shadows, feeding Clinton every weakness in Jones’s defenses. But now, the tides had turned. His smirk wavered as the reality of the moment pressed in. The betrayal had been revealed.Jones’s body ached, his mind screamed, but his rage burned hotter. He wasn’t going to let this snake slither away. “You’re done,” Jones growled.The traitor hesitated.Then—he bolted.Jones lunged, but Clinton moved to block him. “Let him go, Jones,” Clinton sneered. “He did what I needed him to do.”Jones’s fists clenched. Let him go? After all the lives lost because of his lies? After what he did to Kayla? No.But before Jones could give chase, another explosion rocked the building. Debris rained from above, choking the air with dust and smoke. The fight had taken its toll—walls crumbled, fire licked the edges of the battlefield, and bodies, both friend and foe, lay s