The Manipulator's Muse

Chapter 12: The Breaking Point

Mauritius Hyde stared at the flickering lights on his desk, each one signaling a different operation or team in the field.

It had been a grueling few weeks, with Christopher Maxwell pushing his boundaries at every turn.

But this… this was different.

The lights were out in one quadrant, Kelly’s quadrant.

“Sir, we’ve lost contact with Kelly,” one of his lieutenants informed him, voice tinged with unease.

Mauritius didn’t respond immediately.

Kelly had been with him for years, one of his most loyal men.

He’d never gone dark without a reason. His gut churned with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake—a foreboding that this night would not end well.

“Find him,”

Mauritius ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “And find out what the hell is going on.”

As his men scurried to obey, Mauritius felt the edges of his control fraying.

The lines Christopher had been feeding his men were stronger than he’d anticipated.

He had been careful, methodical, and yet… Kelly had slipped through the cracks. And now, it seemed, had fallen into the abyss.

The next report came in quickly, too quickly.

“It’s Kelly, sir. He’s gone mad—he’s attacking our men.

Sir, he… he’s heading here.”

Mauritius didn’t wait for further details. He strode out of his office, heading towards the armory.

He was not one to shy away from the dirty work, especially when it came to protecting his own.

The chaos that greeted him in the lair was worse than he’d imagined.

Bodies lay strewn across the floor, blood pooling under them.

The sharp tang of iron filled the air, mixing with the acrid stench of gunpowder and fear.

And then, he saw him.

Kelly, wild-eyed and frothing, stood over a fallen man, knife in hand.

His movements were erratic, crazed, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

“Kelly,” Mauritius called out, voice steady despite the turmoil in his gut.

“Kelly, stand down.”

But there was no recognition in Kelly’s eyes, only madness.

The knife glinted as he turned towards Mauritius, a twisted smile on his lips.

“You… you’re the devil,” Kelly hissed, his voice barely human.

“You brought me here… you made me this!”

Before Mauritius could react, Kelly lunged. Instinct took over. Mauritius sidestepped the attack, grabbing a nearby piece of metal.

But Kelly was fast, his drug-fueled rage giving him strength.

They grappled, and in the struggle, Mauritius felt the blade slice through his side.

Pain flared, but he didn’t falter.

With a surge of power, Mauritius flipped Kelly onto his back, pinning him down.

But the madness in Kelly’s eyes showed no signs of abating. There was no choice. With a grimace, Mauritius drove the metal spike into Kelly’s chest.

The man convulsed, eyes wide in shock, before the life finally left them.

Mauritius fell back, breath heavy.

He looked down at his former friend, his hands covered in his blood.

There was no time for mourning; there were others still alive who needed him.

He turned to the few remaining men, barking orders to secure the lair and save who they could.

His mind spun as they carried out the grisly work of counting the dead and rescuing the living.

Then, amidst the carnage, he saw her—

Violet.

She was lying motionless, her body crumpled against the wall, blood seeping from multiple wounds.

His heart skipped a beat.

Rushing to her side, he checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by a deep, burning rage.

This was all Christopher’s doing.

And he will pay.

Mauritius ordered Violet to be taken to the medical wing of the lair, overseeing her care personally.

For days, he rarely left her side, ensuring she received the best treatment money could buy.

As he watched over her, something unfamiliar began to stir within him—worry, fear for someone other than himself.

It was an alien feeling, one he couldn’t quite place.

Meanwhile, Christopher Maxwell laughed in the shadows of his empire, gloating over the chaos he believed he had unleashed.

He had no idea that Mauritius had already planted seeds of his own within Christopher’s organization. The game was far from over.

Mauritius returned to Violet’s side, her face pale but peaceful in unconsciousness.

He couldn’t understand why he cared so much, but he knew one thing:

Christopher had made this personal.

And he would see it through to the bitter end.