Liam's Perspective
I stared at the house as the black SUV pulled away. The fury inside was like a living thing, clawing at my chest. Sofia's bruised face and Eamon kneeling on the sidewalk flashed through my mind. Unforgivable.
Inside, my living room felt violated. That woman—Zara Beaumont—had sat on my couch like she owned the place. Like she owned the world.
A knock at the door pulled from my thoughts. Sofia stood there, her cheek still red and swelling.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice small.
I almost laughed. She was the one with the bruised face, yet she was worried about .
"I should be asking you that," I said, gently touching her cheek. "Co in. Let take care of this."
Sofia winced as she sat on the couch. Eamon paced behind her, rage and sha warring on his face.
"I couldn't do anything," he muttered. "Six Peak Grandmasters. They took us down before we could even react."
I went to the kitchen and returned with a cold compress for Sofia's face. "Tell exactly what happened."
Sofia pressed the compress to her cheek. "That woman showed up about an hour ago, demanding to see you. When I told her you weren't ho, she just walked right past like I was invisible."
"I tried to stop her," Eamon added. "But her guards—they're not normal, Liam. They moved so fast."
Sofia nodded. "When she realized you weren't here, she ordered us to kneel outside and wait. Said we were your 'watchdogs' and should act like it."
"And the slap?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
Sofia looked down. "I asked her to leave. Told her this was private property."
Eamon's fists clenched. "She hit Sofia so hard she fell. Said it was a lesson in respecting her betters."
The rage threatened to overwhelm . I took a deep breath, pushing it down. "Rest here. I need to make a call."
I stepped outside and dialed Mariana again.
"I need everything you have on Zara Beaumont," I said the mont she answered.
"Zara?" Mariana sounded surprised. "She's Corbin Ashworth's niece. Young, ambitious, dangerously arrogant. Why?"
"She just left my house after forcing my friends to kneel on the sidewalk and slapping one of them across the face."
A long silence. "That's... unexpected. Zara rarely leaves Veridia City. She must have co on her own initiative."
"aning?"
"aning Corbin didn't send her. This wasn't an official Ashworth move." Mariana paused. "What did you do?"
"I sent her back to her uncle with a ssage."
"Liam," Mariana's voice turned sharp. "Tell you didn't harm her."
I touched my palm, still feeling the sting of the slap I'd delivered to Zara's perfect face. "She hit my friend. I responded in kind."
Another silence, longer this ti. Then Mariana laughed—a short, disbelieving sound.
"You hit an Ashworth noble? In the face?" She sounded almost impressed. "No one has dared raise a hand to an Ashworth in decades."
"She's lucky that's all I did." Enjoying the story? Find more at *.
"This complicates things," Mariana said. "Zara will demand retribution."
"Let her try."
"Liam," her voice softened, "there's a difference between courage and recklessness. The Ashworths—"
"I don't care who they are," I cut her off. "No one hurts my people. Not the Ashworths, not anyone."
Mariana sighed. "I understand. But be prepared. They'll respond."
"Good," I said, ending the call.
I walked back inside. Sofia was looking better, the swelling reduced thanks to the cold compress. Eamon had finally stopped pacing.
"What now?" Eamon asked.
"Now," I said, "we prepare."
---
The sun was setting when I sensed them coming. Four auras, powerful and hostile, moving quickly through the neighborhood. Not as strong as the ones who had accompanied Zara, but dangerous enough.
They didn't bother with subtlety. The front door crashed open, splintering what was left of the fra. Four n in black tactical gear stord in, weapons drawn.
I sat calmly at my kitchen table, drinking tea.
"Gentlen," I said, not bothering to stand. "I was expecting you."
The leader stepped forward, a brutal-looking man with a scar across one eye. "Liam Knight. You're coming with us."
"Am I?" I took another sip of tea. "And if I refuse?"
"Then we take you anyway," he growled. "But with fewer functioning limbs."
I set down my cup carefully. "You know, the last group that ca here ended up regretting it. You should ask your friend with the broken hand how that went."
The leader's jaw tightened. "You think you're sothing special because you got lucky once? We're not here to play gas."
"Neither am I." I stood slowly. "Here's what's going to happen: you're going to leave my house, go back to whoever sent you, and explain that I'm not available."
One of them laughed. "You've got balls, I'll give you that."
"Last chance," I warned.
They moved simultaneously, with practiced coordination. Professionals. In another life, I might have been impressed.
The first reached in two swift strides, a knife appearing in his hand. I caught his wrist, twisted, and drove my knee into his sternum. The crack of breaking ribs was audible in the sudden silence.
The second and third attacked from opposite sides. I ducked under a swinging baton, swept the legs from one, and caught the other by the throat. I squeezed just enough to cut off his air, then threw him bodily into the fourth man.
The leader, seeing his team dispatched in seconds, drew a gun.
"Enough!" he shouted.
I moved before he could aim properly. My hand closed around the barrel, bending it upward with a tallic groan. His eyes widened as I twisted the weapon from his grip.
"Impossible," he whispered.
I crushed the gun in my hand, tal crumpling like paper. "Tell your employers they need to send better n next ti."
I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the door, tossing him onto the lawn like garbage. His companions followed, groaning and limping.
"And fix my door!" I called after them.
As I watched them scramble into their vehicle, my phone rang. Unknown number.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Is this how you treat guests, Mr. Knight?" The voice was cold, male, authoritative.
"Uninvited guests who break down my door? Yes."
A dry chuckle. "You're either very brave or very foolish."
"Who is this?"
"Corbin Ashworth."
My grip tightened on the phone. The man himself. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"My niece paid you a visit today. She returned quite... distressed."
"Your niece assaulted my friend and invaded my ho. She's lucky to have returned at all."
A long pause. "Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?"
"I know exactly who you are," I replied evenly. "The question is: do you know who I am?"
Another pause, longer this ti. "You're becoming an increasingly expensive problem, Mr. Knight."
"I can be much more than that if provoked further."
"Is that a threat?" His voice remained perfectly controlled.
"A promise. Leave my people alone. Stay away from my ho."
"Bold demands from a man in your position," Corbin said. "But I find myself curious about you, Liam Knight. Perhaps we could et. Discuss our... differences civilly."
"I have nothing to discuss with soone who sends thugs to my door."
"Those n weren't mine," he said smoothly. "A misunderstanding. I've reprimanded the responsible party."
I didn't believe him for a second. "Then our business is concluded."
"Not quite," Corbin's voice hardened slightly. "There's still the matter of your assault on my niece."
"She struck first. I responded in kind."
"An Ashworth doesn't answer to the sa rules as common people, Mr. Knight."
"In my house, everyone answers to the sa rules."
Silence stretched between us. I could almost feel him reassessing through the phone.
"Interesting," he finally said. "Very well. Consider this incident... closed. For now."
The call ended.
I stood in my doorway, watching the night settle over the neighborhood. Corbin's words rang hollow. This wasn't over. It was just beginning.
---
Two days later, I sat in a high-end cafe in downtown Havenwood, waiting. The door opened, admitting a slender woman in designer clothes. Heads turned as she walked to my table.
"Mr. Knight," Zara Beaumont said, her voice tight. "Thank you for eting ."
I gestured to the chair across from . "You requested this eting. I'm curious why."
Zara sat stiffly, her perfect posture a shield. A large dark bruise marked her right cheek where I'd struck her, poorly hidden beneath makeup.
"My uncle suggests we resolve our... misunderstanding," she said, the words clearly painful.
I leaned back. "Misunderstanding? Is that what you call breaking into my ho and assaulting my friend?"
Her eyes flashed. "You struck ! Do you have any idea—"
"I know exactly what I did," I cut her off. "And I'd do it again."
Zara's hands trembled slightly before she clasped them tightly on the table. "No one has ever dared—"
"That's your problem right there," I interrupted again. "You've spent your life surrounded by people who fear your family na. Who bow and scrape and let you do whatever you want."
"As they should," she hissed.
I leaned forward. "I'm not afraid of your na, Zara. I don't care who your uncle is or how much power the Ashworths have. In my world, respect is earned, not demanded."
"Your world?" She laughed bitterly. "Your world is whatever we allow it to be."
"Is that what you think?" I smiled without warmth. "You still don't understand what you're dealing with."
She touched her bruised cheek unconsciously. "My uncle seems to think you're... special sohow. Worth talking to rather than simply removing."
"And what do you think?"
Her eyes t mine, filled with cold hatred. "I think you're a mistake that needs correction."
I nodded slowly. "Then we understand each other perfectly."
"This isn't over," she said, standing abruptly.
"No," I agreed. "It's just beginning."
Zara turned and walked out, her back rigid with fury and wounded pride.
I sipped my coffee, watching her go. The Ashworths had ruled unchallenged for too long. They'd forgotten that even the mightiest can fall.
My phone buzzed with a ssage from Mariana: "eting set with Jackson Harding. Tomorrow. Be ready."
I smiled. The pieces were moving into place. Soon, the Ashworths would learn exactly who they were dealing with.
And Zara Beaumont would rember the price of arrogance.
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