It's been days since Alex and Peter decided that the both of them would join hands together and fight their father, and all those behind the evil schemes.
They concluded that Peter would keep eyes on his father, going about his daily stuff while Alex will keep eyes on their homeroom teacher, the Dean, and the others.
It was better this way because by so doing, their enemy would not know that their secrets have been made known already.
Alex had other plans in mind as well — Elizabeth.
During these days, he had not set his eyes on her and he was beginning to wonder if she thinks she can play with him.
'Well, tonight... I'll pay the family a visit.'
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Night finally arrived and Alex got dressed in a black hoodie. He dragged the hoodie over his head, covering his long sky-blue hair that he inherited from his beautiful mother.
Once done, he set out, leaving his hostel in the heart of the night.
The night air was crisp as Alex approached the towering iron gates of the Blackwood estate, he had ran all the way to the house. Thankfully, finding it wasn't difficult because he knew the house during those days when he began to have a crush on Elizabeth.
The mansion itself stood grand and imposing under the moonlight, its windows glowing warmly—an odd contrast to the cold, calculating family that lived inside.
He wasn't here for pleasantries. He was here for Elizabeth. And he didn't care what kind of mess he stirred up to get the answers he wanted.
Alex pressed the brass intercom button, hearing the faint hum as a servant's voice crackled through.
"Who is it?" the voice asked, laced with suspicion.
"Tell your master Alex is here," he said coolly. "I'm here to see Elizabeth."
There was a pause. He imagined the servant weighing whether to ignore him or report his arrival.
Eventually, the intercom buzzed off, leaving him waiting in the stillness. Alex shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, keeping his stance casual, but his mind was already calculating how many ways this could go wrong.
Moments later, the gates swung open with a soft creak. A middle-aged man in a tailored black suit stood waiting by the entrance. "Follow me," he said curtlym
Alex trailed behind, his eyes sweeping the lavish interior as they stepped inside. The dining hall doors were open, revealing the Blackwood family mid-meal. The clink of silverware against porcelain echoed softly through the room. At the head of the table sat a man Alex recognized instantly—Victor Blackwood, Elizabeth's father. His presence was commanding, his sharp gaze cutting through the air like a blade.
To his right sat a poised woman, Elizabeth's mother, no doubt. Mer expression as cold as the crystal chandelier above them. But Alex's focus shifted to the far end of the table, Elizabeth. Her face was unreadable, but the slight widening of her eyes told him one thing, she hadn't expected him.
Victor set down his fork with deliberate precision. "I hear you're looking for my daughter," he said, his tone smooth but heavy with authority. "What business do you have with her?m
Alex stepped forward, keeping his voice even. "I'm here for a matter that concerns only us...Private business." His eyes didn't leave Victor's as he spoke.
The room grew colder. Elizabeth stiffened, her hand subtly tightening around her napkin.
Victor leaned back in his chair, studying Alex with the quiet intensity of a predator deciding whether to strike. "Private business, you say?" He chuckled under his breath. "And what makes you think you can walk into my home and speak in riddles, boy?"
Alex smirked, refusing to be intimidated. "Because I figured you'd prefer answers directly instead of having your daughter sneaking around behind your back."
The air shifted, tension crackled like static electricity.
Victor's smile faded. "You're bold. I'll give you that." His eyes darkened, and his fingers drummed against the table. "But I don't trust bold boys who refuse to explain themselves."
Without warning, he stood up, towering over the table. "If you have something to say, say it now before I lose my patience.m
Alex tilted his head, his stance relaxed but ready. "I'm not here to play games. You know, Elizabeth and I are already involved in some kind of deal. If you want details, you'll have to ask her yourself."
Victor's face hardened, his calm façade slipping. "You think you can come into my home and speak to me like that?"
The next second, he moved. Fast. Too fast.
Alex barely dodged the strike aimed for his jaw. He spun back, instincts flaring as Victor advanced with surprising agility for a man his age.
"So, that's how it is?" Alex muttered under his breath, blocking another blow. "Guess I hit a nerve."
Victor's fist came again. This time, Alex caught it mid-air, twisting sharply to break free. Plates crashed to the floor as the fight burst through the dining room, the sound of footsteps thudding as servants scrambled out of the way.
Elizabeth shot to her feet. "Dad—stop!"
But Victor wasn't stopping. Not yetm
Alex ducked another swing and retaliated, his fist connecting with Victor's ribs. The man staggered back a step, but his face only lit up with a twisted kind of amusement.
"You've got fight in you," Victor growled, wiping a trace of blood from his lip. "Good. But you're out of your depth, boy."
"Yeah?" Alex spat back, breathing hard. "I've been drowning for a while now—I don't mind the deep end."
Elizabeth moved between them, her voice sharp. "Enough! Both of you!"
For a moment, neither man moved—muscles tense, fists clenched. Then, slowly, Victor eased back, the predator's gleam still lingering in his eyes.
"This isn't over," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Alex gave a cold smile. "I wasn't planning on it being over."
"I see," the man mumbled. "Fine then, mind telling me the business you have with my daughter?"
Alex glanced at Elizabeth who was glaring hatefully at him and then replied. "Your daughter is supposed to be working for me, this is the condition I gave her in exchange for her life. But since these past days, I haven't heard any news from her, this got me wondering... Does she no longer treasure her life or that of her family?"
Hearing this, the man was taken aback. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what business his daughter and the crazy boy has together.
"And what sort of business is that?" He asked with authority.
"That is not your concern now," Alex replied, fixing his cold gaze on the man. "The only thing you would do for the three of us is to hand her over to me or I'll end up taking her by force."
"Are you threathening me?" The man bellowed. He narrowed his eyes, gazing at Alex like a devourer does to his prey. But Alex didn't flinch. Instead, his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself," he said coldly. "Hand her over, or I'll take her."
Victor moved first. This time, Alex didn't dodge.
Instead, he caught the older man's wrist mid-swing and slammed his palm against Victor's chest, sending him crashing into the far wall. The plaster cracked under the force.
"You talk big for a man who's losing," Alex said, rolling his shoulders. His blood was surging—his enhanced strength burning beneath his skin like liquid fire.
Victor stood up, brushing debris from his shoulder as if the impact was nothing. His eyes gleamed with fierce excitement. "So, you're not just a mouthy brat after all," he muttered. "Good. I was hoping you'd be fun."
He lunged again, faster and stronger but Alex met him blow for blow. Their fists collided, sending shockwaves through the room. The chandelier above them trembled, glasses on the table were being shattered.
Alex's speed increased. Every strike he landed pushed Victor back. A savage right hook sent the older man skidding across the marble floor.
"You're not as tough as you look," Alex taunted, breathing heavier now.
Victor wiped blood from his mouth, his expression twisting into something darker. "Neither are you."
Without warning, he grabbed a heavy wooden chair and flung it at Alex. Alex smashed right through it with a single punch, but the distraction gave Victor an opening. His knee drove into Alex's ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.
Alex staggered back, vision blurring for a second. He shook it off. "Is that all you've got, old man?"
Victor laughed, a low, menacing sound. "You should've walked away when you had the chance."
He swung again, but this time Alex caught his arm and twisted it, sending Victor face-first into the ground. The floor cracked beneath the impact.
Still, Victor pushed himself up. Relentless. And for the first time, Alex felt it—the burn spreading through his muscles, the sharp ache creeping into his bones. He was starting to tire.
"You're slowing down," Victor said, voice thick with satisfaction. "Your power, whatever it is... has limits."
Alex clenched his fists, willing himself to keep going. "Maybe," he admitted, "but I'm not done yet."