Whispers Of Chaos | ✓

| 23. 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕

'Cause I'm on top of the world
I'm on top of the world, yeah
~ Mount Everest, Labrinth

Chapter 23. Mount Everest

Selena glided toward the stage, Rafael's hand gripping hers with an almost desperate plea. "Don't go away from me," he said, a subtle pout tugging at his lips.

She smiled, her eyes calculating, as she gently cupped his face. "It's time for a surprise," she declared, masking the hidden agenda beneath the surface.

It was time to lay out her cards as she reveled in the power-that she had over him.

I am going to use you, Rafael.

He reluctantly let go of her hand, his gaze following her every step as she walked toward the stairs, a captivating figure ascending for everyone to see her from above.

The lights dimmed, casting an air of mystery over the room.

"May I have your attention, please?" she announced, her voice carrying a deceptive sweetness that masked the sly intentions beneath. The room fell silent, all eyes drawn to her.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Selena's eyes scanned the crowd, seeking the familiar face of Hayate. Amidst the swirl of bodies, he emerged, a mysterious figure blending seamlessly into the public. Many of her men were here-servers, bartenders, and security personnel.

Her gaze settled on Hayate, a striking presence that drew attention even in the bustling crowd. His black eyes, intense and sharp, seemed to hold a universe of secrets, and his black hair framed a face that exuded allure.

A smirk played on his lips as he locked eyes with Selena, a silent understanding passing between them. The boy-for all his youthful appearance, possessed a regal aura that commanded attention. His features were chiseled, reminiscent of a Japanese deity, and his confidence painted him as a figure of authority.

People in the room couldn't help but steal glances at Hayate, captivated by the magnetic energy he radiated. He carried himself with an effortless charisma that surpassed mere confidence, and Selena couldn't help but feel a sense of reassurance knowing he was on her side.

Rafael's eyes narrowed.

"Hello. I am Hayate," his voice, smooth and resonant, cut through the ambient noise in the arena. "But I would prefer you don't call me that. Messenger would be just fine."

His words cut as the door opened.

Around 75 armed men had entered the ballroom.

The men carried loaded rifles, knives, and secret weapons on themselves as they stood firm and terrorizing as they took their positions, waiting for their boss to make an appearance.

They lowered their neck in submission as the man in his early 40s entered the room, causing the atmosphere to thicken.

The man who was their boss entered the room in full majesty as if he were the one who owned this warehouse. He was a 6'4 broad-shouldered man. He screamed mayhem. He was a pale man with a sharply styled beard that emphasized his jawline.

He was wearing a blue-grey suit that flexed his big biceps as he took powerful strides towards them.

He smelt like bourbon and cigar mixed with a little hint of blood. Okay, maybe a lot of blood.

His deep amber eyes were sharp, examining every single thing in this room like a fucking predator.

He was smirking with such electric glee that has stories to tell-stories of the bloodbath.

That man was Anton Lazarev.

Carl felt the color drain from his face as his gaze fell upon the towering figure. A shiver ran down his spine, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled to maintain composure.

He felt the intensity of the amber gaze piercing through the crowd, and the mere thought of being caught in that predatory scrutiny sent shivers down his spine.

Why is he here? Fuck, I am going to die.

Selena's eyes widened as she looked at the man, a smile breaking on her face-big brother.

Hayate's smirk widened, a sinister shadow dancing in his eyes. "Well," his voice cut through the nervous murmurs, commanding attention. The crowd, already on edge from the unexpected arrival of the Russian beast, now found itself at the mercy of this enigmatic messenger.

"I am the messenger of the Knighthood," he declared, the weight of those words settling like a heavy fog over the room. Gasps rippled through the crowd, a collective shudder echoing through the assembled guests.

Knighthood. The clandestine force-shrouded in darkness, stood as a looming presence in the shadowy corners of the underworld. Their very name sent shivers through the spines of those who dared to utter it.

In the annals of organized crime, the Knighthood emerged as a formidable entity, an opposing force to the power of the five reigning families. Operating at the pinnacle of the underworld hierarchy, they transcended conventional boundaries, wielding a macabre influence that extended beyond territorial confines.

The Knighthood.

Selena's chuckle carried an eerie undertone that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to listen closely.

"And I am the Knighthood."

Her eyes met the amber eyes as they brimmed with pride, looking at her.

The leaders of the five powerful crime families snapped their heads toward her-their well-practiced poker faces faltering for a moment-their surprise laid bare for the world to see.

No matter how skilled they were in concealing their emotions, the revelation struck a chord that resonated with disbelief. A teenager was leading the most notorious organized crime group.

Theodore Mariano, a man who had spent years navigating the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld, gazed upon his daughter with complex emotions.

His features betrayed a mixture of surprise, pride, and perhaps a tinge of uncertainty. The unspoken rules of the arranged contract shattered, and in its place emerged a realization that his daughter possessed an extraordinary prowess.

Clemonte can't force her anymore. Sullivan and Knighthood-she had them both.

The voice in his head acknowledged the undeniable truth-his daughter was not just competent; she was exceptional. The reins of power had passed into the hands of a formidable force, a force that happened to share his blood.

Selena's eyes swept the room, dissecting reactions. Her gaze met Rafael's, finding a smile that acknowledged her revelation as if he had foreseen the Knighthood's alignment with her. Unspoken approval exchanged, she shifted her attention to Richard Clemonte.

Behind the mask of authority, panic flickered in Richard's eyes, his search for his son, Xavier. An inward chuckle echoed-what a bummer, I wanted to meet my fiance.

"And Knighthood, once shrouded in secrecy, now extends an open invitation," she announced, her words a subtle blade slicing through the room. The ensuing silence betrayed collective surprise and discomfort. Despite their apprehension, the allure of the Knighthood's resources overshadowed their fears.

"Everything comes at a price," she added. It was the moment to exploit the greed that fueled the ambitions of these five families. It's time they turn against each other.

Her gaze lingered on Richard, a silent challenge evident in her eyes.

It was time for the whispers of chaos.

Word count: 1154
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