I stared at Tyler Westwood's face, watching his expression morph from confidence to shock as my words sank in.
"Let make this absolutely clear," I said, my voice low and controlled despite the rage building inside . "Isabelle is under my protection. No one will be using her blood for anything."
Tyler quickly regained his composure, smoothing down his expensive suit jacket. "Liam, be reasonable. The properties of her bloodline could advance dical science by decades. My family would ensure she's treated with the utmost respect—"
"Respect?" I laughed coldly. "Like the 'respect' the Veridia City Martial Guild showed her when they kept her prisoner and drained her blood like she was livestock?"
Tyler had the decency to look uncomfortable. "That was... regrettable. But we're different."
"Different?" I stepped closer to him, noticing how he instinctively backed away. "Where was your family when the Guild had her? Where were all these concerned families when she was suffering? You were all too terrified to stand against the Guild then, but now that she's with , suddenly you're brave enough to co asking for her blood?"
The hypocrisy of it all made my blood boil. These powerful families had cowered before the Guild, allowing Isabelle to suffer. Now they saw as a weaker protector, an easier target.
"The situation has changed," Tyler argued, raising his chin defiantly. "The political landscape—"
"The only thing that's changed is who's protecting her," I cut in. "And let assure you, that's not an improvent for your chances."
A small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance, pretending not to eavesdrop on our increasingly tense conversation. I noticed Daphne Grenville watching us with sharp interest.
Tyler's expression hardened. "You're making a mistake, Knight. My family isn't the only one interested in the Ashworth bloodline. If you refuse us, others will co. So won't ask as politely."
"Let them co." My voice dropped even lower. "I'll give them all the sa answer."
"You can't fight every powerful family in Veridia City!" Tyler hissed. This content originates from *, My Virtual Library Empire.
Sothing inside snapped. In one fluid motion, I grabbed Tyler by his shirt collar and pulled him close.
"Watch ," I growled.
Before he could respond, my fist connected with his stomach. I held back enough to avoid killing him, but the punch still sent him flying across the room, crashing into a decorative table.
Gasps erupted from the onlookers. Servants rushed forward but stopped short of intervening.
"Liam!" Daphne hurried to my side, her voice urgent. "This isn't the place for—"
"Stay out of this, Daphne," I warned without looking at her. "This doesn't concern you."
Tyler struggled to his feet, his face contorted with rage and embarrassnt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"You've made a fatal error, Knight," he spat. "The Westwood family won't forget this insult. You can forget about attending the Exchange eting. In fact, I'll personally make sure you don't live long enough to regret this."
Ricardo Beaumont appeared between us, hands raised placatingly. "Gentlen, please. This is hardly the venue for physical altercations."
"He attacked !" Tyler pointed accusingly. "In your ho, Ricardo! Will you allow this?"
Ricardo looked torn. "Violence is... unfortunate. But I must remind you, Tyler, that you did approach Mr. Knight with a rather sensitive proposition."
I appreciated Ricardo's diplomatic approach, though I knew it was calculated. He wouldn't want to choose sides openly.
"Liam," Ricardo turned to , "the Exchange eting will host representatives from the Nine Great Families, including the Westwoods. It would be unwise to create enemies unnecessarily."
"I understand," I replied, straightening my jacket. "But I won't apologize for protecting what's mine."
Tyler wiped the blood from his mouth. "This isn't over, Knight. You think you've made a na for yourself in this city? You're nothing. A montary curiosity that will be forgotten once you're dead."
I walked steadily toward Tyler, ignoring Ricardo's attempt to intercept . The room fell silent as I approached the still-wobbling Westwood heir.
When I was close enough that only he could hear , I spoke in a voice like steel. "You think I'm afraid of your family's influence? Let tell you sothing, Tyler. The Guild took everything from once. They tortured the woman I love. They killed my friends. And now? I'm systematically destroying them piece by piece."
I saw the first flicker of genuine fear in his eyes.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of," I continued. "So here's my advice: Tell your family to stay away from Isabelle. Tell your friends too. Because offending is far more terrifying than offending the Veridia City Martial Guild ever was."
Tyler's face had gone pale, and a slight tremor ran through his body.
I stepped back. "Now, I believe I'll still be attending that Exchange eting. Ricardo has kindly offered to sponsor ."
Ricardo looked startled but recovered quickly. "I... yes, of course."
I turned away, dismissing Tyler as if he were nothing. The crowd parted for , their expressions a mixture of fear, respect, and calculation.
As I walked toward the exit, I heard Ricardo speaking quietly to Tyler, no doubt trying to smooth over the situation. I didn't care. I'd made my point.
Outside in the cool night air, I took a deep breath, letting my anger dissipate. I needed to get back to Isabelle. With Tyler's threat, I didn't want to leave her unprotected for long.
My phone buzzed with a ssage from Mariana: "Everything OK? Word travels fast."
I texted back: "Fine. Headed ho. Increased security around Isabelle."
Mariana's response ca quickly: "Already done. Jackson's with her."
That eased my concern sowhat. Jackson Harding was more than capable of protecting Isabelle while I handled this ss.
As I waited for my car, I noticed a shadow moving near the garden entrance. My senses went on high alert, but it was just one of Ricardo's security guards making his rounds.
The luxury sedan pulled up, and I slid into the backseat, giving the driver Mariana's address. As we pulled away from the mansion, I caught a glimpse of Tyler Westwood watching from an upstairs window, his face a mask of hatred.
---
Back at the mansion, Tyler Westwood paced his guest room, his hands still shaking with rage and fear. The humiliation of being struck in front of so many influential people burned like acid in his gut.
"How dare he?" Tyler muttered, pouring himself a generous glass of brandy. "Who does he think he is?"
But beneath his anger lurked a new emotion—fear. Sothing in Liam Knight's eyes had struck a primal chord of terror within him. The man had spoken with absolute conviction, as if destroying the Veridia City Martial Guild was rely a task to be checked off a list.
Tyler downed his drink in one gulp, wincing at the burn. "I have to tell Father. We need to move against Knight before he becos an even bigger threat."
But even as he reached for his phone, Tyler hesitated. Would his father believe him? Or would he see Tyler's failure to secure the Ashworth girl's blood as incompetence?
No, he couldn't go to his father empty-handed. He needed a plan first—a way to eliminate Liam Knight while maintaining plausible deniability for the Westwood family.
"I must find a way," Tyler whispered to himself, a dangerous glint appearing in his eye, "to kill him..."
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