Chapter 43

"Cut that crap, I don't need your stupid apology. Where's the girl?" Norman snapped, grabbing Fatima by the collar and yanking her forward. His voice trembled, not from weakness, but from pure rage mixed with fear. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"If something happens to Julie, me and Bob are dead men walking. You don't understand who her brother is!"

Fatima's face paled as she stammered, "I-It was my cousin, Robert! I swear, I didn't know he'd go that far! He took her... I don't know where but please-I'm not the one you're looking for!" She fell to her knees, shaking uncontrollably, her hands clasped in a desperate plea.

Bob's jaw clenched as he growled, "Robert...? That son of a bitch. I'll rip his spine out myself!"

Norman turned to Bob, stunned. "Wait-you know this guy?" Follow current novᴇls on find⦿novel.net

Bob nodded sharply. "Yeah. He's one of mine. One of the street rats under my payroll."

Norman's eyes widened in disbelief. "One of your men!? I thought you sent the message out to everyone-not to lay a finger on the King's family!"

Bob nodded again, this time slower, angrier. "I did. I even sent out photos. I made it clear. Anyone who touched them was dead. But Robert..." He clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked. "He wouldn't do this unless he had some fool backing him. Someone stronger... or stupid enough to think they're untouchable."

"Call him." Norman said.

Bob was already dialing, pacing like a caged beast. Ring after ring. No answer. He redialed. Again. Voicemail.

"He's not picking up!" Bob roared, throwing his phone to the ground, cracking the screen. "He knows I'm coming."

Norman didn't hesitate. "We find him. Now."

Bob nodded. "He's got a few dirty hideouts in the city. Start with the scrapyard at Rust Alley. If he's not there, we check the docks."

Outskirts of Ravenmoor - King's Mansion

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A quiet breeze rolled through the grand courtyard of a newly completed mansion on the hill. It towered above the landscape like a silent sentinel, the sunlight reflecting off its black marble walls Jaden stood on the balcony in a black silk robe, the city at his feet, his eyes sharp and cold.

"As the King of War, you deserve nothing less, boss," Drax said with a grin. "Not

as big as Dragon City's palace, but this is the finest in Ravenmoor."

Jaden nodded slowly, his voice calm. "It's perfect. Quiet. Remote. I like it."

Drax raised a box. "The attire you asked for from the Black Dragon group."

The Black Dragon Group was no

ordinary faction. It was a secretive powerhouse Jaden personally founded after ascending as the King of War in Dragon City. Built from the shadows, it quickly rose to become one of the most feared and respected underground

organizations on the planet. Every member held immense authority in their own domain—warlords,

corporate giants, political

puppeteers-each one loyal to Jaden and bearing influence that could topple nations.

Drax handed him a sleek black box, trimmed in gold. Jaden opened it with steady hands.

Inside lay a long, obsidian

jacket-elegant, menacing. A

crimson dragon insignia shimmered

faintly on the left shoulder,

embroidered with an ancient

technique long thought lost. The

fabric was unlike anything mundane.

Woven from rare silks found only in the forbidden mountains of NorRhian and reinforced with microthreaded armor lining, the jacket was both a symbol and a weapon.

This wasn't just clothing. It was a declaration.

Only members of the Black Dragon Group were permitted to wear it. And anyone

else caught in one... wouldn't live to take it off.

Jaden brushed a finger across the insignia.

"I like this one," he murmured.

Then his eyes sharpened.

"Let's go pay Baron Gravesend a visit."