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The Brutal Revenge Chapter 21: A Deal with the Devil
Blackwood College was no longer battlefield, it was a graveyard.The once-prestigious institution had become a warzone, where alliances crumbled, and power shifted like sand through open fingers. Blood had soaked into the very foundation, and the ones who still fought weren’t doing it for survival anymore.They were doing it for control.Jones and Clinton weren’t just leaders anymore. They were kings fighting over a broken kingdom, their crews caught in the chaos of their war. But now, as the tide turned against him, Clinton was left with one choice—one that would change everything.The shattered windowpane rattled in the cold wind as Clinton leaned against the desk in what remained of the abandoned administration building. His crew, exhausted and bloodied, filled the room. Tension thickened the air, pressing down on them like a storm waiting to break.Nate, his second-in-command, wiped the blood from his cheek. "Jones isn't letting up. We lost the East Wing, and he's locking down the
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 22: No Mercy
The gun’s cold steel pressed against Jones’s skull.The night air was thick with smoke, the scent of gunpowder hanging heavy. His crew was falling back, pushed into the shadows as the Syndicate swarmed Blackwood like a plague.And Clinton?He stood there, victorious.Jones clenched his jaw. He wasn’t done.He couldn’t be.The enforcer behind him dug the barrel deeper against his skin. "Move," the man ordered, his voice flat, professional.Clinton’s smirk widened. "Jones, you always thought you were untouchable. Always thought you could outplay me." His voice was low, dripping with satisfaction. "You never saw the bigger picture."Jones gritted his teeth. "You didn’t win this. You bought it."Clinton didn’t deny it. "And yet, here we are."The enforcer grabbed Jones’s arm, yanking him back. Jones’s muscles coiled, waiting—timing—calculating. He had a fraction of a second to act.Then, he moved.Twisting hard, he knocked the enforcer’s grip loose, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs.
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 23: The Silent Hunt
The night was thick with tension as Jones moved through the ruins of Blackwood College, his steps silent but his mind loud.Kayla was gone.One second, she was beside him, her grip firm on his arm as they planned their next move. The next—she vanished.Jones’s stomach twisted. His crew had regrouped, but the moment he realized Kayla was missing, the war blurred into the background. He scanned the faces around him, searching for hers, but she was nowhere.His hands curled into fists.This wasn’t random. This was Clinton.He had planned this.Jones had underestimated how far Clinton was willing to go. The Syndicate controlled Blackwood, but Clinton wasn’t just interested in power—he wanted to break him.Not happening.Jones exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. If Kayla had been taken, it meant she was alive. And if she was alive, it meant there was still time.But not much.He turned to his second-in-command, Darius. "We need to move. Now."Darius nodded, his expression grim. "You
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 24: Bound but Unbowed
Blinding pain ripped through Jones’s skull as he hit the cold, bloodstained floor of the administration building. His vision blurred, and a ringing in his ears from the explosion still lingered. But he had no time to recover. The Syndicates were on him before he could move. A boot crashed into his ribs—hard. Jones gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. Another strike, this time to his back. The world twisted in pain, but he didn't fall apart. He wouldn't. They wanted him broken. They wanted him weak. Not happening. The Beating Continues "Hold him down!" one of them barked. Hands grabbed him, forcing his arms behind him. He struggled, muscles burning, but there were too many. A fist slammed into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Jones gasped, vision darkening, but he didn't stop fighting. "Stubborn bastard," another voice sneered. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" A sharp punch to his jaw sent his head snapping to the side. Blood filled his mouth
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 25: Bound in Blood
Jones barely had time to gather his breath before the door slammed open. The Syndicates poured in like a wave of brutality, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. Heavy boots thundered against the floor as they surrounded him, their presence suffocating. The dim overhead light flickered, casting long, shifting shadows on the bloodstained floor. Jones knew what was coming. But he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t plead. He had survived hell before. This was just another storm to endure. A fist drove into his gut, sharp and punishing, knocking the air from his lungs. His body lurched forward, but the ropes around his wrists and legs kept him anchored to the chair. Another hit. This time to his already bruised ribs. Pain flared like fire. He gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing against the onslaught. Clinton stood near the wall, arms crossed, his smirk widening as Jones struggled. "You really are predictable," Clinton murmured. "Always playing the tough guy." A Syndicate memb
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 26: The Trap Within
Jones’s body ached like hell. Every breath felt like a knife stabbing through his ribs, but he didn’t have the luxury of weakness. His wrists were raw from the ropes cutting into them, his muscles tight from being bound too long.Kayla sat slumped beside him, her breathing shallow. He wasn’t sure if she was barely conscious or just conserving energy. Her left eye was swollen shut, dried blood crusting along her brow.Jones flexed his fingers, subtly testing the knots. The Syndicates had tied them tight—whoever did it knew their way around restraints. But there was always a weakness. Always a way out.They didn’t have time.The Syndicates would be back soon.Jones shifted his wrists, feeling the rope rub against his skin. The fibers dug deep, but the movement created the slightest slack. He just needed a little more.Kayla stirred, her voice hoarse. “You have a plan?”Jones smirked despite the pain. “Yeah. It’s called ‘get out of this damn chair before they come back.’”She let out a w
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 27: The Fall Before the Rise
The tension in the air was razor-sharp as the crew gathered in the shadows behind the abandoned lecture hall. Blackwood College had always been a battlefield, but tonight, it felt like a graveyard.Dre clenched his fists, his knuckles still raw from the last brawl. He could feel the phantom sting of every fight they’d endured, every punch thrown in the name of survival. But this wasn’t about survival anymore. It was about vengeance."Jones and Kayla have been gone too long," he muttered, his voice like gravel."Clinton’s got them," Riley said grimly, pulling a knife from her boot. The blade glinted under the dim campus light, an extension of her rage. "And if we wait any longer, we’ll be pulling bodies out of that place instead of rescuing them."No one disagreed. The Syndicates weren’t known for keeping prisoners alive. If they had Jones and Kayla, it meant one thing—they were bleeding them out for sport.Jace tightened the strap on his brass knuckles, eyes locked on the darkened win
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 28: The Blood Price
The night air was thick with tension, the weight of their previous failure pressing down on them like an iron vice. Dre, Jace, and Riley had barely recovered, but there was no time to heal. Jones was still inside. Kayla was still inside. And they weren’t leaving without them.The crew moved in silence through the shadows of Blackwood College, their bodies aching from Clinton’s merciless beating. Every bruise, every cut was a reminder of the Syndicates’ dominance. But they weren’t here to be reminded.They were here to rewrite the story.Jace adjusted his grip on his crowbar. Not this time. “We’re not making the same mistake,” he muttered. “We go in smart.”Dre’s face was stone. “No tunnels. We hit them straight from the front. Fast. No time for them to set a trap.”Riley exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s get it done.”But what they didn’t know was that Clinton had already anticipated their return.He was waiting.The Syndicates’ hideout loomed ahead, a crumbling structure
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Chapter 50: The Silent Takeover
Jones paced the ruined halls of Blackwood College, his mind a battlefield of unanswered questions. The weight of recent disappearances pressed against his chest like a vice. Derrick was gone. Leo was gone. Dre had returned, but he might as well have been a ghost, lost in a haze of missing time and fear.The silence was heavier than the gunfire that had once ripped through these halls. It wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence before something unspeakable.Lexi stood at the far end of the hall, her arms crossed, eyes sharp with worry. “Boss, this isn’t a coincidence,” she said, voice low.Jones nodded. “I know.”But knowing wasn’t enough.Clinton was still playing the game. The problem was—Jones didn’t know what the game was.And that terrified him.Clinton stood in the underground surveillance chamber, his fingers gliding over a rusted keyboard. The glow from the monitors illuminated his smirk as he watched Jones through flickering screens.The fool still thought he was in co
Chapter 49: The Silent Conspiracy
Jones stood in the ruined halls of Blackwood College, staring at the blank screen where Clinton had just taunted him. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and gunpowder. His grip on his gun tightened.He had won.Hadn’t he?His crew was securing the college, sweeping every corridor, making sure Clinton’s forces had either surrendered or were eliminated. But something didn’t sit right.Clinton had been smiling.Not the smile of a man who had lost.The smile of a man who had already won.Jones exhaled, forcing his shoulders to relax. He had to be overthinking it. Clinton was beaten. His people were scattered. Blackwood belonged to him now.Then why did it feel like he was standing in a minefield, waiting for the next explosion?Leo’s voice crackled through the radio.“Boss, east wing secured. No sign of Clinton.”“Keep looking,” Jones ordered. “Lock everything down. If he’s hiding, I want him found.”He clipped the radio back onto his belt and turned toward the main hall.That was
Chapter 48: The Fall That Wasn't
The explosion tore through the east wing of Blackwood College, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield. Smoke and fire erupted, swallowing the air with an acrid stench. Shattered glass and burning wood rained down like a storm, obscuring the chaos unfolding beneath it.Through the thick haze, Jones surged forward, his crew right behind him, weapons drawn, their determination set in stone.This was it.The final battle.And he was ready to end Clinton for good.On the other side of the field, Clinton stood tall despite the destruction around him. His forces, battered and bleeding, formed a tight line behind him, outnumbered and overwhelmed. The weight of war clung to them, their muscles stiff from exhaustion. Yet, in Clinton’s eyes, there was no fear.No regret.Just a glint of something Jones couldn’t place.Something that made his gut tighten.Jones took a step forward, his voice cutting through the smoke.“You should’ve stayed gone, Clinton.”Clinton dusted off his shoulders
Chapter 47: The Art of Deception
Clinton leaned back against the cold concrete wall of his underground hideout, his fingers pressing against the wound on his arm. Blood oozed between his fingers, but the pain barely registered. His mind was already calculating, shifting the pieces of the game.Blackwood College wasn't lost.Not yet.He had expected Jones to come at him hard. Expected his empire to crumble under the weight of that final battle. But what Jones didn’t know—what none of them knew—was that Clinton never played a game he wasn’t ready to lose.Because a man who prepared for defeat?Could never truly be beaten.His remaining men stood in front of him, some wounded, some exhausted, but all loyal. They had watched their forces fall, their strongholds burn. But in their eyes, he still saw belief.Belief that he would turn this around.Clinton’s lips curved into a slow smirk as he stepped forward.“Listen up,” he said, voice sharp as steel. “Jones and his crew think they’ve won. They think Blackwood belongs to t
Chapter 46: The Illusion of Victory
The gunshot cracked through the night.Jones twisted just in time. The bullet grazed his ear instead of blowing his head off. Pain flared, sharp and searing, but he moved fast. His elbow slammed into Clinton’s ribs, forcing him to stumble back.Gunfire still roared around them. The half-built construction site was a battlefield of chaos—screams, bullets, the clash of steel against steel.Clinton recovered fast, raising his pistol again. Jones didn't give him the chance. He lunged, gripping Clinton’s wrist, forcing the gun upward as another shot fired wildly into the sky.Clinton snarled, eyes burning. “You’re persistent.”Jones gritted his teeth, muscles straining against Clinton’s strength. “And you’re done running.”He twisted, slamming Clinton’s hand into a nearby steel beam. The gun clattered to the ground.Clinton didn't hesitate. He drove a knee into Jones' stomach, then followed up with a ruthless punch to his jaw. Jones stumbled back, vision blurring for half a second. It was
Chapter 45: The Counterstrike
The dust had barely settled, but Jones’ mind was already racing. Clinton had escaped, but he wasn’t gone. Not for long.He turned to his crew—Lexi, Dre, Victor, Leo, Jasmine, and the others—fifteen in total, all battered and bloodied, but their eyes still burned with resolve. The battlefield was theirs for now, but Clinton had made his move. He had vanished into the night, and Jones knew exactly what that meant.A strategic regroup. A counterstrike.Jones tapped his earpiece. “Leo, track Clinton. We need to know where he’s heading.”Leo, crouched over a downed enemy, wiped blood from his knuckles. “Already working on it.” He pulled a small device from his pocket, tapping rapidly. “He’s not going far. His people are still moving in the city. If I had to bet, he’s regrouping at one of his hideouts.”Jones turned to Dre. “How bad are we on supplies?”Dre exhaled. “Low on ammo. We’ve taken hits, but nothing fatal. We can still fight.”Jones nodded. “Good. Because this isn’t over.”His gri
Chapter 44: The Fall of a Giant
Jones’ breath was ragged, his ribs screaming in protest as he pushed himself up from the rubble-strewn floor. Blood trickled from his temple, blurring his vision. Clinton’s gun was still aimed at his head, the smirk on his face one of pure control."Game over," Clinton said again, voice laced with satisfaction.Jones wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "You keep saying that."Then, all hell broke loose.A flash of movement.Lexi struck first, a dagger flying from her hand. Clinton swayed at the last second, the blade slicing just past his cheek, leaving a thin red line. He cursed, firing a shot—but Lexi was already rolling away, vanishing into the smoke.Jones didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, slamming into Calhoun before he could fully recover from the last blow. They crashed to the ground, Jones’ knife aiming for the giant’s throat.Calhoun caught his wrist mid-air.Their eyes met—pure hatred burning between them.With a snarl, Calhoun twisted, flipping them both. Jones bare
Chapter 43: The Ambush
The air in Blackwood College was thick with tension, the kind that settles deep in the bones like the calm before a thunderstorm. The abandoned halls stretched like veins in a dying beast, silent and waiting for blood to be spilled.Jones crouched low against a crumbling column, gripping the cold steel of his knife. Across from him, Lexi, Dre, and Victor were poised, their breaths shallow, their eyes locked on their target.Calhoun.The behemoth stood in the middle of the old assembly hall, a battlefield carved out of history. He was a storm in himself—massive, unshaken, unbreakable. His men fanned out around him, oblivious to the noose tightening around their necks.Jones exhaled slowly. Showtime.He tapped the radio mic clipped to his collar, his voice a whisper in the darkness."Phase one. Execute."Plan A: The TrapFrom the shadows, Jasmine and Kayla struck first.A deafening boom ripped through the hall as pre-planted charges detonated, sending a cascade of debris crashing down t
Chapter 42: The War Council
Jones’ lungs burned as they sprinted into the night. Every breath came ragged, each step dragging his aching body closer to their only chance at survival.Blackwood College sprawled ahead—silent, eerie, a battlefield waiting to be claimed.Jones didn’t hesitate. “Inside. Now.”Dre shoved open the rusted doors of the abandoned library, its grand walls now draped in dust and decay. The group staggered in, barely holding themselves together. Blood dripped, breaths hitched, but they weren’t done.Not yet.Jones turned, locking eyes with Riley, Kayla, and Dre. “We call them. All of them.”Kayla, still clutching her ribs, frowned. “You sure?”“No other choice,” he said, voice like steel. “We either stand together—or we fall.”He grabbed the emergency radio from his jacket, twisting the frequency dial.Static crackled.Then—“Jones?” A voice, sharp and clear.Leo.Jones exhaled, tension easing. “It’s time. Get everyone. Blackwood Library. Now.”No hesitation. “We’re coming.”The radio buzzed
