Chapter 4
Author: Adam Aksara
last update2025-04-22 11:01:02

Jack didn’t slow. If anything, he got rougher.

“So let him,” he hissed, driving deeper, making her cry out.

“I bet that’s the best he can do. Let him see how I fuck while he lies there like a corpse.”

Jack let out a cruel satisfied laugh while his eyes burned with a twisted joy.

He had always envied and disdained Alex, not only because Alex was a nobody, but because he was a nobody who was often praised by Grandpa Fairchild and got to marry a beauty.

While he, Jack, had been dismissed as nothing more than a burden and a drunken, womanizing waste.

But now?

Now, Alex was on the floor—broken, bleeding, helpless.

And in Jack’s fractured mind, that meant something. That meant everything.

“You watch, Alex,” he snarled through a twisted smile.

“This is how I’m going to make your wife, my cousin — Sophia — scream wild too. I bet she’ll make a good screw. And your sister too. I’ll strike her from the back, turn and twist her like a baby doll. Oh, how sweet!”

Jack laughed—wild, breathless, filled with a manic hunger.

“Hell, surely I’ll fuck them together.”

Alex’s rage boiled beneath the surface.

His mind was spinning, his blood was on fire—but his limbs were lead.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only watch.

No one noticed the pendant on his chest glowing brighter, the blood soaking into its core.

Then—without sound—it miraculously dissolved into his skin.

A blinding light exploded behind Alex’s eyes.

Visions. Power. Pain. Awakening.

And then—blackness.

A few minutes later, Jack and Olivia finally collapsed in a haze of twisted satisfaction.

The room was heavy with sweat, sex, and blood.

Olivia’s breath caught as she glanced at Alex’s body.

Something was wrong—very wrong.

She scrambled closer, her hand trembling as she pressed it against Alex’s chest.

“Jack…” Her voice cracked. “He’s not breathing.”

“What?! What a fucking weakling! Can’t take a hit at all, can he?”

Jack’s voice wavered.

A hint of panic flashed in Jack’s eyes, but he quickly calmed down.

“Good. He should’ve died a long time ago,” he muttered, then walked over and gave Alex’s head a lazy, vicious kick.

But Olivia wasn’t prepared for this.

“We... we killed him,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Jack, we killed him.”

“Listen to me,” Jack said, trying to sound composed.

“If he lived, he would’ve destroyed everything.”

“But what do we do now?”

A glint of cunning flashed in Jack’s eyes.

Since Alex couldn’t even handle a beating and ended up dead, he might as well take advantage of it.

So he said, “I’ll take him to the cliffs and dump him. No one will ever find out.”

***

An hour later, on the cliff not far from the Fairchild mansion.

“Fall hard and rot, you pathetic parasite.”

Jack snarled, then kicked Alex’s body off the dark cliff.

Alex plunged into the dark sea with a thunderous crash.

The waves greedily swallowed him.

Above, Jack hopped into his truck.

In his mind, Alex was done, all his dirty secret sealed—no one survived that height.

Beneath the surface, Alex’s limp body sank, muscles screaming, bones throbbing.

Dark spots flickered in his vision, ready to drag him under.

He couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

Here he was, the Supreme Lord, a man of unmatched power, who had personally founded Heaven’s Order.

And now, because of a surge of inner force and two insignificant bastards, he was about to die.

How ironic.

Just as the darkness closed in, a sudden warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest—like a quiet fire stirring in his blood.

The pendant that had melted into his skin minutes ago, pulsed like a second heartbeat, forcing his once motionless inner force into action.

The wound on his head closed up in a blink of an eye.

Alex could feel his inner force spinning through his body in cycle after cycle, clearing every path and rewiring his entire energy flow.

***

Miles away, inside a heavily fortified command center, screens flashed urgently with red alerts, each blinking notification raising pulses and spiking adrenaline.

"Master Alexander hasn't checked in for twenty-four hours. He might be compromised," one agent barked, voice sharp with urgency.

"I've reached out repeatedly. No response," another operative replied tensely, gripping a communications headset tightly.

"Could something have happened to him?" a third questioned, glancing uneasily at surveillance monitors, anxiety palpable in every tense line of his face.

"We can't wait any longer. Dispatch teams immediately; locate Master Alexander and secure his safety."

"Wait," someone interrupted cautiously. "The Master explicitly ordered secrecy—he’ll be furious if his cover's blown."

"We have no choice," the lead operative commanded sharply, his voice steady and eyes glittering with hardened resolve. "Initiate stealth protocol—deploy all surveillance drones and prep the helicopters. Silent insertion only; Master Alexander must never know we intervened."

Within moments, sleek black helicopters lifted effortlessly into the night sky, their rotor blades whispering softly beneath advanced noise-suppression technology.

Below, squads of elite agents, clad in matte-black tactical gear equipped with state-of-the-art stealth modules and night-vision optics, surged silently into action.

They moved like phantoms across rooftops and alleyways, shadows blending seamlessly into darkness, their precision unmatched and purpose absolute.

Miles away, oblivious to the formidable storm closing in, Jack strode casually toward Alex's sister’s recovery chamber, his pulse quickening with sinister anticipation.

With Alex out of the picture, there was nothing left to stop him. Those beautiful women, helpless and unaware, were finally at his mercy.

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