Chapter 7: Running Into Anastasia Again

The club hallway was dim and quiet, but even the low lights couldn't dull the force of Byron's presence. Behind him, Porter and the others followed, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Byron stopped, cocked his head slightly, and said in a low voice, "Stop." They froze instantly, confusion flickering across their faces. Porter stepped forward, head bowed slightly, his voice tense. "Divine Lord, did I do something wrong?" Byron turned, his gaze steady. "I don't want to be dragged into Jever Sect business. I walked out of prison. I just want to live my own life." His voice was quiet, but firm as steel. Porter jerked, then dropped to one knee. "Divine Lord, Jever Sect can't be leaderless. If you don't step up and lead, everything will fall into chaos." His panic spread; the others fell to their knees too, worry etched on every face. Byron's brow furrowed slightly, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "My mind's made up. Porter, when the time comes, I'll hand the Drakorn Token to someone worthy. From now on, quit pestering me." He turned to leave. Porter stayed kneeling, watching Byron's back with a conflicted look. ***** Outside, the neon was harsh and glaring. Byron narrowed his eyes and flicked his card between his fingers, already thinking about how to use the money to make life easier for his family. Vroom! An engine roared. Byron looked over. A Lamborghini with a bodyguard escort pulled up at the club entrance. Several bodyguards climbed out and opened the door. Anastasia and Otis stepped down. Anastasia was decked out in designer clothes, an expensive bag on her arm, her makeup flawless. Otis, dressed in a flashy suit and wearing a smug look, oozed arrogance. They locked eyes, and the air grew tense. "Byron Qualls? I thought you were dead!" Anastasia's eyes widened, shock etched all over her face. "You walked out of Ninos Prison alive?" Otis sneered. "I'm surprised. I thought I'd never have to see you again." Byron stared at Anastasia and demanded, "Anastasia Lapwood, why are you getting out of his car?" The doorway light spilled over the three of them, outlining them in sharp relief. She lifted her chin, looking pleased with herself. "That's none of your business." "Don't be so cold to your old lapdog," Otis drawled, then slid his hand around her waist and squeezed, blatantly showing off. "Bet you didn't know this, Byron. While you were locked up, your goddess here threw herself into my arms." He paused, eyes gleaming. "And after that? I knocked her up. Haha!" His laughter rang out, thick with mockery and pride. "Oh, darling, why bother telling a nobody?" Anastasia giggled, giving Otis a playful punch, a blush on her cheeks. Rage boiled in Byron. His fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms. He'd never imagined the woman he once loved could sink so low. Seeing his anger, Anastasia just snuggled closer to Otis, giggling. "Otis, good thing that idiot Byron did me a favor. If he hadn't gotten himself thrown in prison for offending you, how would a catch like you ever look my way?" "Ha! You're right," Otis said, basking in her attention. Anastasia pressed on, turning to Byron with syrupy, mocking sweetness. "I really should thank you, Byron. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be living this good life." Byron forced himself to calm down and stared at her. "You miserable bitch. When I was with you, I protected you with everything I had. For you, I stabbed a spoiled rich kid and went to jail. This is how you pay me back?" Anastasia sneered. "Don't be stupid. All that 'being good to me' was you groveling like a dog. You're a loser. What could you ever give me?" "Mr. Casson isn't like you. He's rich and powerful. You're not even in the same league as him." Her words hit like ice water.  Otis caught Byron's eye, gloating. "Know what else?" Otis said, triumphant. "After I got Anastasia pregnant, I sent her in, belly and all, to squeeze every last dime out of the Qualls family." "Your family's hell right now? I planned every bit of it. All thanks to that one stab you gave me." He grinned, proud of his plan. "Heh… what a perfect pair of scumbags," Byron said, laughter breaking through his fury. "Hahaha! What's the matter, kid? You losing it?" Otis laughed. "Tough luck. You're just an ex-con fresh out of prison, and I'm the richest man's son in Zerton. Don't like it? What are you gonna do about it?" Watching him show off, Byron's mouth twisted into a razor-sharp smile. Whoosh! His leg whipped out. The kick was so powerful it seemed to tear the air. Thud! Otis never stood a chance. He flew back like a kite with its string cut, slamming into the glass doors. Crash! The glass shattered, pieces skittering across the floor. "Aah!" Otis screamed, curling up in pain. The bodyguards froze, stunned. Byron was too fast for any of them to react. A moment later, they snapped to, drew their weapons, and closed ranks in front of Byron to shield Otis. "Otis!" Anastasia screamed, scrambling to his side, panic all over her face. Byron watched, eyes icy. "Otis Casson, I stabbed you half to death before. I can still kick you around like a stray dog." "You lunatic!" Anastasia shrieked. "How dare you!" Byron's smile turned cold. "Good news, Anastasia. I just wrecked what's between his legs. Let's see if a gelded Otis will keep paying for that pretty face of yours." "What?!" Anastasia froze, stunned.  Otis groaned on the ground. "Bullshit!" he snarled. "My junk's fine. You didn't even kick me in the balls!" He tried to get up, but pain in his lower belly kept him down. He barked at his men, "What are you waiting for? Grab him! I'll skin him myself!" The bodyguards charged, weapons raised. Byron snorted, spun on his heel, and took off. "Otis, I'll remember this. I'll make you wish you were dead!" Killing them outright would've been too easy. He wanted them to live and lose everything. That pampered trust-fund brat? Byron would make sure he inherited nothing but debt. "Stop right there!" Otis roared. "Bastard, you don't get to leave unless I say so!" The guards tore after Byron like a pack of starving wolves, their footsteps pounding down the empty street. After a moment on the ground, Otis gingerly checked himself. Finding no disaster, he let Anastasia pull him up, cursing under his breath. "That bastard dared to kick me! When we catch him, I'll have him chopped up and fed to the fish!" His voice was harsh, carrying in the night. Footsteps approached. Porter emerged from the club with his crew. Black trench coat, silver at the temples, eyes like knives, he radiated authority without saying a word. Otis's face lit up. He plastered on a smile and hurried over. "Mr. Farrell, what a surprise running into you." He bowed slightly. "I'm Otis Casson from Lumina Group. We've been hoping to do more business with you. About that medical devices project we talked about-could we fast-track it?" He laid it on thick, hoping to impress the power broker.  Porter didn't even glance his way, just walked past as if Otis didn't exist. Otis's smile froze, then crumbled. He didn't dare get angry and swallowed his frustration, watching Porter lead his men away. He spat on the ground. Muttering, he snatched up his phone and jabbed the screen, calling security. The line picked up to pain-laced groans and faint cries for help. "Hey! You useless idiots, what the hell are you doing? Did you catch Byron?" he yelled. Silence.  Then a shaky voice. "M-Mr. Casson, w-we did our best." "'Did your best'? What's that supposed to mean?" The man stammered, terror in his voice. "He's… he's too strong. We couldn't stop him." "Trash! All of you are trash!" Otis snapped. "So many of you, and you can't handle one ex-con?" "Mr. Casson, your guys aren't much," Byron's voice came over the line. "Looks like your money was wasted." "Don't get cocky, Byron!" Otis snarled. "Just wait. I won't let you go." "Anytime," Byron said coolly. The line went dead. "Bastard!" Otis hurled his phone to the pavement. It was shattered into pieces. Anastasia shivered, dread creeping into her voice. "Otis, something's wrong. Byron… he's not like he used to be." "Different how?" Otis scoffed. "He's just an ex-con. When I find where he lives, I'll have him bagged, chopped up, and fed to the fish."