Chapter 3 - Blood for Blood, Strike for Strike
Lucas stepped forward, each heavy, wet footstep echoing like the drum of an approaching executioner.
Chloe, blinded by her mother’s supposed invulnerability, tossed her hair and let out another mocking chuckle.
“Look who decided to crawl out of the slums, the prodigal failure has returned to play hero,” she sneered, raising her chin with unearned arrogance.
That was the final mistake of her pampered, pathetic life.
Lucas closed the distance between them before Chloe could even blink or take another breath.
He did not hold back his wrath; with a lightning-fast motion, he delivered a devastating open-handed slap across Chloe’s face.
The impact sounded like a gunshot cracking across the courtyard.
Chloe’s head whipped violently to the side, her drink flying out of her hand and shattering against the stone balustrade.
She was thrown entirely off her feet, crashing hard into a cluster of wrought-iron lounge chairs that collapsed beneath her weight.
Chloe shrieked in absolute agony, clutching her rapidly swelling jaw as tears of shock washed away her expensive makeup.
The entire crowd gasped collectively, horrified that someone had actually laid hands on the untouchable heiress.
“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER, YOU PSYCHOPATHIC BASTARD!” Victoria screamed, completely losing her composure.
She lunged at Lucas like a feral animal, her polished nails aimed directly at his eyes in an attempt to gouge his flesh.
Lucas did not flinch; he caught both of her wrists in mid-air with an iron grip that made Victoria gasp in sudden pain.
With a cold, dismissive glare, Lucas shoved the treacherous woman away from him with tremendous force.
Victoria went flying backward, her high heels failing on the slippery surface, and crashed heavily into the grand drinks table.
The entire mahogany setup gave way, sending towering pyramids of champagne flutes and crystal decanters crashing onto the marble patio.
The deafening sound of shattering glass filled the air as vintage wine poured like blood across the wet tiles.
Victoria landed on the ground amidst the wreckage, screaming as champagne soaked her priceless dress.
“SECURITY! RICHARD, KILL HIM RIGHT NOW!” Victoria howled toward the glass patio doors.
Suddenly, a large, burly man in an expensive Italian suit charged out of the estate’s interior with blind fury in his eyes.
It was Richard Vance, Victoria’s new husband, a disgraced former corporate executive known for his violent temper and backroom dealings.
Richard charged at Lucas with all his two-hundred-pound weight, throwing a vicious right hook meant to break Lucas’s skull.
Lucas’s military reflexes took over instantly without a fraction of hesitation.
He slipped smoothly under Richard’s clumsy punch, evading the strike with millimeter precision.
In the very same fluid motion, Lucas pivoted on his heel and unleashed a brutal defensive side kick directly into Richard’s solar plexus.
The sound of expelled air exploded from Richard’s lungs as the blunt force lifted him off his feet.
Richard crashed hard across two heavy wooden sunbeds, splintering the frames before rolling onto the concrete, gasping like a dying fish.
The garden descended into absolute, suffocating silence.
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Three of the most feared and arrogant people in high society were sprawled in their own filth and shattered glass, completely dismantled in less than thirty seconds.
Nobody dared to breathe, knowing that an unstoppable storm had arrived to claim its due vengeance.
