Chapter 3: Die A Wretched Death

Words : 2221 Updated : Oct 30th, 2025

"Amelia!" Bruce's eyes burned red as he rushed to Amelia's side. Her lips were chalk white, her face drained of color, the exhaustion etched so deep it made his heart clench. He gathered her by the shoulders, powerless to stop the tears that spilled out. He hadn't cried when Fang's missions left him battered and half-dead. He hadn't cried fighting for his life in the underworld. But seeing Amelia like this, grief surged in him. Men don't cry until the heartache comes. Silent tears streamed down his face. Hearing his voice, Amelia slowly opened her eyes. The face she'd held in memory, blurry and thinning with time, appeared so vividly before her that for a moment she forgot how to breathe. Her mouth curled in a weary, self-mocking smile. "I must be hallucinating." She whispered it and closed her eyes again. Maybe she was so hungry that she was imagining things. "Amelia, it's not a hallucination. I'm back." His voice came out ragged, like there was a lump in his throat. At the sound, she opened her eyes again. She lifted a trembling hand, touching his face, disbelieving; her fingers skimming the hard line of his cheekbone. Touch couldn't lie, could it? Only when warmth pressed into her fingertips did she let the truth settle in. Bruce was back. He'd come when she needed him most. Tears welled up and spilled in a rushing tide. She gazed up at him through a silver blur, the tight knot in her chest finally loosening. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, and she blacked out. Two sharp swishes cut through the air. "Boss!" "Boss!" A man and a woman appeared behind Bruce. Seeing him holding a woman, tear tracks plain on his face, both froze as if struck by lightning. How was this possible? The Lord of Godbane Hall, the one countless powers feared and revered, the man who lorded over Westonia, was crying. And for a woman. Was this their lady? Bruce forced down the murderous storm raging inside him and laid Amelia gently on the sofa. In the corner lay a yellowed wad of paper. He picked it up and unfolded it. A single line ran across the page: "If you ever run into trouble, don't forget you have me. Bruce Yale 184****8888" He'd written that note for Amelia six years ago. She had tucked it into the slim space between her phone and its case and kept it there ever since. She'd thought a thousand times about dialing that number, but never pressed the call button. Until Micah found it today and sent Bruce a text. Bruce snapped his head around, his gaze boring into Micah. Thump! Micah flinched and collapsed to his knees. He'd swaggered through Jenton for years, notorious chief of the Black Dragon Gang's four elite enforcers. His name could make grown men blanch, women scream, and crying children fall suddenly silent. Under Bruce's eyes, he lasted less than a heartbeat. The look was too terrible, like it meant to devour him alive. Facing Bruce, he didn't dare think of resisting. He'd never seen anything so terrifying; one glance sent needles prickling between his shoulder blades, dread flooding his chest like icy water. Beside a man seething with murderous intent like this, he realized all his old ferocity had been nothing but bluster. Bruce moved; afterimages rippled in the air. The next second, he was standing before Micah. He leaned in slightly, clamped a hand on Micah's throat, and lifted him like a scrawny chick. "Tell me everything-from the beginning." Bruce pinned Micah with his stare, his voice knife-cold, a sound that seemed to drift up from hell. Micah had no doubt: if he hid a single detail, Bruce would snap his neck. This man, more fearsome than any devil, wouldn't hesitate. How many lives had he taken to carry murderous intent this thick? "Boss, spare me, I was just following orders. I..." Pain shot through him like a spear, straight up into his skull. "Aaaaah!" His head rolled back and he howled in a raw, tearing sound. Every bone in his left arm shattered beneath Bruce's palm. Tendons and nerves snapped. Agony swarmed him like fire. He got out one scream, and then no more, because Bruce squeezed his windpipe harder. Micah's face flushed red, then purple, then turned a sickly blue. In the haze, he thought he saw Death beckoning, the scythe tip fixed between his collarbones. The strangling was so fierce his body convulsed from lack of air. He'd rather have died outright than endure this. But his life was in Bruce's hands. Micah's babbling went on too long. Bruce had no patience for pleas. Just as Micah's eyes rolled up, just as the world dimmed to a tunnel, Bruce's grip eased. He gulped air like a fish on dry land, mouth working wide, lungs heaving. Outside, urgent footsteps beat toward the room. "Boss, what happened?" "What's going on?" Bruce's eyes stayed flat and cold. "Grayson." The man from the pair bowed his head. "Boss!" Bruce's voice carried a chill that made skin crawl. "No survivors." "Yes." Grayson nodded once and strode out to kill. The arrivals were Grayson Yale and Maya Yale, two of the Eighteen Protectors of Godbane Hall. The Eighteen took the Yale surname in Bruce's service. Godbane Hall's core was the Four Heavenly Kings, the Nine Divine Envoys, and the Eighteen Protectors. The Kings and the Envoys fought on the front lines. The Protectors were different: some had a gift for business and ran the Hall's many enterprises; some were brilliant at intelligence work and fed the Hall its secrets. Grayson oversaw personnel training. Maya managed Godbane Hall's commercial operations across Aryn. They were stationed closest to Jenton. When they learned Bruce had wiped out the Slayer Hall, they raced to Jenton, murderous intent rolling off them. Maya spotted a camera in the room and slipped out to find the surveillance room. The room fell quiet. Bruce looked at Micah like he was already a corpse; the cold in his eyes made Micah's blood run cold. Screams rose outside, one after another, ragged and short. Micah shook, terror shredding his voice. "Boss, Amelia... I didn't take Ms. Looske on purpose. I'm with the Black Dragon Gang. The boss told me to grab her. She owed us about $10,000, and the boss told me to jack the 'interest' up to $100,000. I don't know why. I just follow orders." Bruce loosened his hand. Thud! Micah dropped to the floor. He let out a breath, thinking he'd found a way through, when Bruce stamped down on his thigh. Crack! Force tore through the limb. Bone splintered end to end, tendons burst, skin split open. "Ah!" Micah writhed on the floor and screamed. The pain twisted his face into something scarcely human. Grayson and Maya returned. Grayson bowed. "Boss, it's all taken care of." Maya lifted a phone, her teeth clenched. "Boss, these losers deserve to die. They even went after a little girl, threatening the lady with a child's life." Bruce took the phone and looked. He saw Micah threatening Amelia with her daughter's life. He saw the despair in Amelia's eyes. Murderous intent blasted out of him. His gaze sharpened to twin knives. "Where's the kid?" Micah quaked, fighting through the agony. "At the Black Dragon Gang's HQ, the Tendos Entertainment Center." Bruce drove his palm forward. Micah's bones shattered. Blood poured out, and Bruce made him watch himself die. Amelia had said he would die a wretched death. Bruce made sure he did. "Maya, get Amelia to a hospital. Grayson, pin down the exact location of the Tendos Entertainment Center." Bruce stood, seething with murderous intent. That night had already chosen its work. It would be a night of slaughter.

Chapter 3: Die A Wretched Death

Comments (0)