The dim glow of the streetlights flickered against the cold, wet pavement as Damon stepped out of his black Aston Martin. The night air was thick with tension, but inside him, a storm was already raging. His sharp brown eyes, as cold as a winter night, burned with silent fury.
Betrayal.
Marco, his so-called loyal associate, had made the biggest mistake of his life—selling him out to the cops. Because of that bastard, one of Damon's major warehouses had been raided, costing him millions. The thought alone made his blood boil.
He wasn't just a man who ran an empire in the shadows—he was The King. No one betrayed The King and lived to tell the tale.
Beside him, Adrion lit a cigarette, the orange ember briefly illuminating his cruel smirk.
"Found him," he said, exhaling smoke. "That rat didn't get far. Hiding like a coward in some filthy alley near a café."
Damon's gaze darkened. His perfect, godlike features—features that could lure any woman to her knees—held nothing but merciless rage.
"Then what the fuck are we waiting for?"
Adrion chuckled, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "That's what I like to hear."
Their men flanked them as they strode forward, like demons from the depths of hell. Everyone covered their faces, a rule Damon insisted on. For the outside world, he was a successful businessman. For those who knew him... he was something else entirely.
The city slept, unaware of the nightmare unfolding in the shadows. Damon didn't need guns or an army to prove his dominance. His name alone was enough to make even the bravest men shiver.
Marco trembled in the dimly lit alley, his hands raised in a futile attempt to shield himself from what was coming. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the cold, wet pavement with a desperate sob.
"D-Damon... please... you don't have to do this..." Marco's voice cracked, his breath shallow with panic.
Damon's gaze was unwavering, his cold eyes locking onto Marco's, filled with a merciless resolve. His lips were pressed into a thin line, betraying no emotion, but his rage was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface.
"Don't have to do what?" Damon's voice was low, a dangerous calm. "You made your choice, Marco. You knew the consequences."
Marco's body trembled uncontrollably. He tried to wipe the sweat from his brow, his hands slick with fear. "Please, Damon... I didn't mean it... I swear, I had no choice! They came after me... my family... I—I never wanted to betray you!"
Adrion stepped forward, his voice deep, almost mocking. "I love it when they beg, Damon. You can hear the fear in their voice... the desperation." He took a long drag from his cigarette and flicked the ash onto the wet ground, eyes never leaving Marco.
Marco's breath came in frantic gasps, his desperation escalating with each passing second. His hands shook as he gripped the filthy ground beneath him. "I swear... I never meant it. Please—please don't—"
"You think I care about your excuses?" Damon hissed, his words cutting into Marco like a knife. "I don't give a shit about your family or your pathetic life. You betrayed me, Marco. You sold me out."
Adrion's grin widened, and he stepped closer, a twisted glint in his eyes. "I'm sure he'll beg more, Damon. Let's see how long he can last." He crouched down next to Marco, his voice dropping to a low, almost sensual whisper. "How does it feel, knowing your time's up? That this is the end?"
Marco's eyes darted to Adrion, and he let out a strangled sob. "Please! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't—"
Adrion chuckled, the sound rich with dark amusement. He grabbed Marco's arm and yanked him to his feet, holding him up like a doll. "Sorry won't save you now. You're already dead, you just don't know it yet."
"Shut up!" Damon growled, his voice like ice. "Let him speak, but know this—no amount of begging is going to change what happens next."
Adrion let go of Marco, and he crumpled back to his knees, his body shivering from fear and cold. But then, Marco spat, eyes wild with panic, his voice hoarse and bitter. "Fuck you, Damon! You think you're some god, don't you? You think you can just snap your fingers and kill anyone who gets in your way? You don't deserve this power! You're a fucking monster!"
A sick smile twisted Adrion's lips as he moved to the side, silently watching as Damon approached Marco. "I love when they talk tough. Makes it all the more satisfying when you take them down a notch."
Damon's face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes as he stepped forward. With a single, swift motion, he grabbed Marco by the throat and slammed him against the cold brick wall of the alley. Marco's breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving as he struggled for air.
"You should've kept your mouth shut," Damon growled, his hand tightening around Marco's throat, the pressure cutting off his air. Marco's face contorted in pain as he clawed at Damon's hand, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. The choking sensation burned through his chest, but he couldn't escape it.
Adrion's voice was a sickening lullaby in the background.
The seconds dragged on, Marco's eyes bulging, his hands weakly pushing at Damon's unyielding grip. He could feel his strength draining away, the darkness closing in around him.
Finally, Damon loosened his grip just enough for Marco to sputter out one final curse. "Go to hell, Damon! You're nothing but a fucking monster!"
Without missing a beat, Damon pulled out his gleaming silver knife. He didn't need to speak—his eyes said everything. In one swift, brutal motion, the blade sliced across Marco's throat with surgical precision. The spray of blood was immediate, a violent eruption that stained Damon's hands and clothes. Marco's body jerked violently, but his breath came out as a strangled gurgle, each gasp of air a desperate attempt to cling to life.
Adrion stepped forward, his smile widening at the sight of Marco's life spilling out onto the ground. "Now, that's a beautiful sight," he murmured, his voice thick with sadistic pleasure.
Marco's final breaths were ragged, his body trembling in the throes of death. His hands flew to his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, but it was pointless. The blood pooled around him, soaking into the wet ground, the gurgling sounds of his dying breaths filling the alley.
Damon stood over him, his gaze cold and calculating. He wiped the blood off the knife with a black handkerchief, his face unreadable. "Make sure this is cleaned up. No one talks about this," he ordered, his voice low and commanding.
Adrion looked down at Marco's lifeless body, then back at Damon. "As you wish," he said, his eyes still glinting with satisfaction.
His men already moving to dispose of the body. The world had already forgotten Marco. But Damon wasn't one to leave loose ends. Any trace of betrayal would be erased without hesitation.
But one thing was clear: Marco had paid the price for his treachery, and Damon's empire continued to stand, unwavering.
As Damon started to leave there someone was hiding and seeing behind the wall like a scared little kitten .And then there she was
His obsession