"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"War doesn't determine who is right, it determines who is left."-
______________________________
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"Found Damien, yet?" Thea asked, anxious. Starr shook her head, typing away on the laptop.
The Arena was a hushed war‑room of motion: Oscar and Ida wove extension cords across the blood‑spattered floor to power new security nodes; Antonio drilled fresh camera mounts into concrete; Blade and Katrina argued in low voices over the trajectory of bulletproof glass. Somewhere overhead, Luca's footsteps echoed along the catwalk as he barked orders to the snipers he'd hidden in the rafters. The place smelled of bleach and copper and stale adrenaline.
Then the lights stuttered.
Once. Twice. They held.
Starr, hunched over three laptops on the scorer's table, felt the hairs on her arms lift. A static tension crawled across the screens—an electrical prickle in the air. She squinted at the code scrolling down her primary monitor.
"Voltage spike?" she murmured.
The hallway bulbs flickered again, dimming to a sickly amber. Somewhere in the mezzanine a transformer buzzed like a hornet caught in glass. Luca paused mid‑stride, gaze lifting to the ceiling.
And that's when it hit.
A deafening, multitone WHOOP–WHOOP–WHOOP burst from every speaker in the building—followed an instant later by a piercing electronic shriek from every phone, radio, tablet, and security console. The sound was so sharp it carved through bone; hands flew to ears, tools clattered to the floor.
Screens blinked off. Came back on. Black first—then a violent, blood‑red wash that flooded every pixel.
Across that crimson glare pulsed a single image: a golden capital K, bright as a brand, flickering in time with the siren's beat.
K. K. K.
Starr's laptops rebooted themselves, forcing her hands away from the keyboard. Her heart hammered. "This isn't possible..."
On the far side of the arena Milo spun, yanking his phone from his pocket; the gold K flashed there too, drowning the display in fire. Felix's burner rang out with the same klaxon. Elias stumbled as the earpiece in his head crackled to life, hissing feedback.
Every device in the Arena screamed.
Then—just as suddenly—the siren cut out.
The silence boomed.
All that remained was the low hum of emergency lights and the collective thunder of breathing. One by one, the screens began to cascade with code: columns of white alphanumerics racing over the red field, colliding, dissolving, re‑forming into coordinates, into street designations, into an unmistakable pattern.
Starr's eyes flew wide. "It's an address!"
Her voice ricocheted through the vault of seats. She snatched one laptop, flipping it toward Blade. Latitude, longitude, city, borough—lines resolving into a single address in rural New York.
The coordinates repeated across every screen. Then the white text winked out.
For a heartbeat each device lay dead.
And then, in perfect unison, all electronics flashed one final message—letters staggering in black on red, as if clawed across the screens:.
Finally, all the devices blinked with one word.
H e l p
- The King
The alarm had been sounded
~
(A/N): wordcount: 525
oh snap.
NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST CHAPTER. EPILOGUE AND BONUSES WILL BE OUT SOON MWAH <3
