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The Brutal Revenge Chapter 30: The Art of War
The air in Blackwood College was thick with the scent of smoke and blood. The remnants of the battle clung to the walls like scars—proof that this war was far from over.Jones leaned against a cracked desk in the abandoned lecture hall, his ribs screaming with every breath. Kayla sat across from him, pressing a cold compress against a forming bruise on her jaw. Dre, pacing like a caged animal, clenched and unclenched his fists, while Riley and Jace leaned over a scavenged map of the college.They had survived.But survival wasn’t enough.Not anymore.“We can’t let Clinton dictate the next move,” Jones said, his voice hoarse but determined.Dre’s jaw was tight. “He’s already planning his counterattack. You saw him—he wasn’t surprised by what we did. He let us walk away.”Jace gritted his teeth. “Because he wanted to. Not because he had to.”A grim silence settled over them. It was the truth none of them wanted to say. Clinton still had the upper hand.Riley exhaled sharply. “Then we ne
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 31: The Crushing Blow
Blackwood College was falling apart.Smoke billowed through the ruined corridors, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning debris. The echoes of distant gunfire and clashing steel reverberated through the abandoned halls, a haunting reminder that this war was far from over.Jones staggered against a crumbling wall, his breath ragged. Blood still seeped from the knife wound Clinton had left him with, but he was alive. Barely.His body screamed for rest, but he ignored it. He had unfinished business.Dre’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, man.”Jones wiped the blood from his lips. “Not hard enough.”Kayla crouched beside him, her hands quick as she wrapped gauze around his wound. “You nearly died last time.” Her voice was sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. “Clinton’s stronger than we thought.”Jones clenched his jaw. He remembered the way Clinton toyed with him, the smirk on his face as he twisted that knife into his side. The memory burn
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 32: Phantom Tactics
Smoke and dust still lingered in the ruined war room. Clinton was gone. Jones knew that much, but the question was—how? One second, Clinton had been buried under debris, bloodied, cornered. The next? He’d vanished like a ghost. Jones clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. The battle had been his. He had planned every move, every strike, every explosion. Yet, somehow, Clinton had slipped through his fingers. Kayla leaned against a fallen beam, breathing hard, blood streaking her temple. “We had him,” she muttered. “How the hell did he escape?” Jace crouched near a pile of rubble, pressing two fingers to a fallen Syndicate’s neck. No pulse. “He left his own people behind,” he said, wiping his hand against his torn sleeve. “That means one thing.” “He’s ahead of us,” Riley finished, voice grim. Dre kicked over a broken chair, his frustration boiling over. “Man, we keep playing catch-up while that bastard stays five steps ahead.” Jones inhaled sharply, forcing h
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 33: The Fractured Web
The remnants of Clinton's escape haunted Jones. The message scrawled in blood-red paint—"CHECKMATE? NOT YET."—was a taunt, a challenge that gnawed at his resolve. He knew Clinton's network was vast, with spies, Syndicates, and loyalists embedded throughout Blackwood College. To dismantle it would require precision, cunning, and an unwavering commitment from his crew. In the dimly lit confines of their makeshift headquarters, Jones unfurled a detailed map of Blackwood College. Each mark represented a potential threat, a node in Clinton's intricate web. The room was thick with tension, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the faces of his most trusted allies, their expressions hardened with the burden they carried. Jones exhaled slowly. "We need to be surgical," he began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Clinton's strength lies in his network. We cut off his eyes and ears; we cripple him." Kayla, her face still
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 34: The Masterstroke
Jones read the note again, his fingers tightening around the edges. The ink was bold, deliberate."Nice try, Jones. But you're not the only one who can play this game. You think you're hunting me? You just walked into my trap. -C"A cold wave of unease washed over him. His crew stood frozen, the weight of the message sinking in. Riley cursed under her breath, Dre clenched his fists, and Jace scanned the shadows beyond their hideout, suddenly feeling exposed."How the hell—?" Kayla started but stopped herself.Jones took a deep breath, steadying his thoughts. They had spent days infiltrating Clinton’s network, planting doubt, twisting alliances. But Clinton had seen through it. Worse—he had played along."We need to leave. Now," Jones ordered.Before anyone could react, the lights flickered, and a deep, mechanical click echoed from the door. The room plunged into darkness.Then came the sound.Tap. Tap. Tap.Footsteps—slow, deliberate—just outside their hideout.Jace reached for his bl
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 35: Turning the Tide
The air in the alley was thick with tension, the dim streetlights casting jagged shadows against the brick walls. Jones' mind raced, his pulse hammering in his ears. Clinton had anticipated everything. He had played them like pieces on a board, maneuvering them into check.But the game wasn’t over.Jones turned to his crew, his voice low but firm. “We need to hit back—hard and fast. Clinton thinks we’re out of moves. Let’s prove him wrong.”Dre wiped blood from his lip, nodding. “Say the word, man.”“We need a stronghold,” Kayla said, scanning their surroundings. “If we’re out in the open, we’re dead.”Jace’s jaw clenched. “We’ve lost our safe houses. Our contacts. We have nowhere to go.”Jones exhaled sharply, thinking. “We don’t need a safe house. We need a war zone.”Riley frowned. “What does that mean?”Jones’ eyes darkened. “Clinton controls Blackwood because people fear him. We take away that fear—we take away his power.”Kayla crossed her arms. “And how do we do that?”Jones lo
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 36: The Monster Unleashed
The air in Clinton’s office was thick with anticipation. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the slow, deliberate tapping of Clinton’s fingers against his desk. Victor stood near the window, his broken nose still bruised, eyes scanning the streets below. The war was unfolding, but Clinton had no intention of letting it spiral out of his control. Jones thought he had the upper hand. He was wrong. A low, metallic creak filled the silence as the heavy steel door swung open. Footsteps followed—slow, deliberate, each step landing like a hammer against the floor. Then he stepped into the light. Calhoun. The room seemed to shrink around him. He was a beast of a man—easily seven feet tall, his frame packed with raw muscle, each movement exuding power. His skin was marred with scars, battle-worn from wars no ordinary man could have survived. A black tactical vest clung to his chest, revealing arms thick as tree trunks. His face was a mask of cold efficiency, his eyes hollow pits of v
The Brutal Revenge Chapter 37: Relentless Carnage
Jones’ ribs ached with every breath, but pain was the least of his concerns. Blood dripped down his temple, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. Riley clutched her throat, still coughing, her face pale. Jace groaned beside her, holding his side—likely a cracked rib or worse.And Dre…Dre lay motionless for a moment, groaning as he forced himself up, his lip split open. “We’re screwed, man.”Jones gritted his teeth. Not yet.They had barely escaped, but they weren’t done. Not by a long shot.They regrouped in a half-burned warehouse on the outskirts of campus. The air was thick with sweat, gun oil, and desperation. The flickering lights overhead cast long, jagged shadows as Jones paced in front of them.Kayla tightened her grip on her rifle. “We can’t keep running.”“No shit,” Jace muttered, spitting blood onto the floor.Jones turned sharply, his mind racing. “We don’t run. We strategize. Calhoun’s strong, yeah, but he’s not invincible.”Riley’s voice was hoarse. “Didn’t feel that w
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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
