Chapter 9: Blood Aura

Wesley stepped into the yard and looked up at the gleaming gold letters on the rooftop. "Thalvara Trading Corporation? Nothing but a fake." Bang! He hurled Big D through the doorway.  Big D hit the hard floor, rolled, then scrambled deeper inside. As he ran, he jabbed a finger back toward Wesley. "Mr. Dustin, it's him! He's the one who beat our guys. He seriously injured Jaylen. You've got to avenge us!" "You crippled one of my guys? You got a death wish?" Dustin radiated menace, and the tension spiked. Dustin's crew bristled, ready to rush Wesley and pin him down. Boom! Wesley's presence surged, and he strode straight toward Dustin.  As he drew close, the reek of blood seemed to fill the room, a suffocating dread that made it hard to breathe. Boom! A few men who stood too near couldn't withstand it. They were flung back, bodies skidding across the floor. Wesley kept moving, unhurried, yet each step felt like the Grim Reaper drawing near, making their hearts seize. The iron tang of blood hung thick. A murderous aura rolled off him in waves. Men who hadn't even approached found their legs shaking, teeth chattering. That aura made them picture mountains of corpses and a sea of blood, a battlefield with no mercy. Boom, boom, boom! More men buckled under the pressure and were sent flying. Others dropped to the ground before Wesley even reached them, collapsing where they stood. The gruesome, blood-soaked aura ran down everyone's spine, giving them goosebumps. Some were already backing away, legs moving on their own. His presence alone terrified them. He seemed like death itself, a demon in human form. No one knew how many had died at the hands of this young man. Wesley kept advancing at a steady pace. As he neared, people either crumpled or were sent flying. By the time he stood a yard from Dustin, not a soul remained around them. The infamous Dustin trembled, his face gone chalk-white. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. Thump! Wesley took one more step. That blood-chilling aura zeroed in on Dustin. Sweat poured off Dustin's brow. Whatever fight he had in him shriveled and died, leaving only confusion and fear. He felt hunted by a primordial beast. Even a twitch and he'd be done for. Dustin was afraid. He finally understood he had run into someone far beyond his reach. That brutal, bloodstained aura made Wesley seem like a killing machine, ferocious and merciless. Heaven knew how many had fallen to him. Thump! Dustin couldn't stand it anymore. He dropped to his knees. "I give up! Wesley, I lost. I apologize. I shouldn't have egged my guys on against you!" Dustin prostrated himself on the floor, sweat raining off him. Wesley hadn't even lifted a hand, and Dustin broke. Wesley's presence alone had crushed him. Dustin knew he was out of his depth, completely. He had been around long enough not to be a fool. In front of someone like this, submission was the only way to survive. Wesley said nothing. That silence terrified Dustin even more. He feared he might become a corpse at any moment. "Mr. Wesley, I really admit defeat. From now on, you're my boss. You say jump, I ask how high. If you tell me to deal with someone, I won't hesitate. I'm your guy. Whatever you say, I do, no backtalk. Please, spare me." Thud! Thud! The once-mighty Dustin bowed, banging his head on the floor over and over, desperate and humiliating. Big D stood there dumbstruck. He never imagined his boss would fold before the first punch was thrown. He began edging backward, trying to slip away, at least to put distance between himself and Wesley. Bad luck for him. The moment he moved, Dustin caught sight of him. Dustin lunged and laid into him with fists and boots. "You idiot! If not for you, would I have messed with Mr. Wesley? You're a walking jinx! I'll kill you!" Crack! Dustin wrenched Big D's arm and snapped it. Big D screamed and fainted on the spot. Then Dustin trotted over like an eager mutt. "Mr. Wesley, is that good enough? If not, I'll finish him off right now." Dustin lifted his foot again. Wesley raised a hand. "Enough. Remember what you said today. Otherwise, I'll wipe your Thalvara Trading Corporation off the map in Tadville." Wesley turned and walked away. As he left, that terrifying aura lifted, and the battlefield vision faded. "Holy crap! That man was terrifying." Only after he was gone did the thugs start breathing again. Many realized their clothes were soaked through with cold sweat. "Mr. Dustin, we're just letting him walk?" someone ventured. "Get lost!"  Dustin slapped his man across the face. He raised his hand for silence. "Listen up. That man is off-limits. He's untouchable. Don't ever mess with him. Anyone who tries, I'll kill." That night, Wesley lingered at a restaurant for a long time before returning to the slum. The next morning, a knock on the door jolted him from sleep. He got dressed and opened the door. A poised beauty stood there in a gray fitted skirt suit. It was Katie. She took in his slightly tousled hair and frowned. "What time do you think it is? You're still not up yet?" Wesley lifted an eyebrow. "What am I getting up early for? I lost the job." "What? You lost your courier gig, too?" Katie gave a quick grin. She didn't care about a courier's pay anyway. She urged him briskly. "Get inside and put on proper clothes. Fix that bird's nest on your head. Then get your paperwork ready. We're going to the civil affairs bureau for our marriage certificate." "Yes, dear." Wesley shuffled back in his flip-flops. Katie stared, speechless. The thought of spending a whole year with this man gave her a headache. She waited patiently in the yard. At last, Wesley sauntered out again. "You… why are you still wearing that?" Katie's cheeks flushed. One look at the courier uniform from that night brought back memories.  With it came the memory of her vulnerability and pain, a wash of shame that made her want to disappear, especially when facing Wesley. And here he was, wearing it again. No wonder her head throbbed. "I'm broke," Wesley said with a rueful smile. "I don't have any other clothes." "Fine. Let's go." Katie chose not to press the point, turned, and walked out of the yard. Wesley touched his shirt and couldn't help a crooked smile. He muttered, "This outfit is worth several hundred thousand dollars. She really can't tell?" In truth, Wesley's courier uniform had been hand‑stitched by a world-class fashion designer. The craftsmanship and materials alone made it worth around $300,000. It was good enough for daily wear, and it fit him clean and sharp. He couldn't blame Katie. It was not her line of work. It was normal that she didn't notice. Wesley stepped outside and climbed into her Maserati. Twenty minutes later, they walked into the civil affairs bureau's registration hall. "Wow, she's gorgeous! So elegant." "Right? No makeup, and she's still stunning." Katie's entrance drew murmurs of admiration.  At the registration window, the staff stared. They were a rare sight, a handsome man and a stunning woman. In years of handling marriage certificates, she had hardly seen a couple so well matched. Then she glanced at Wesley's outfit and frowned. "Wait, he's just a delivery guy?" Her eyes flicked back to Katie. She was noble, graceful, and composed, the picture of a lady from a good family.  It felt wrong to her, deeply out of place.