Chapter 4 Bring Down Those Walls

          Xavier's POV

I dragged on my cigar and let the smoke drift. My shoes clicked on the asphalt as I walked between them.

“Do you fools know whose ground you’re fighting on?” I said. My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried.

One man in a black singlet spat on the ground. “This street belongs to no one!”

I smiled. "You're right," I said softly. "It doesn't belong to anyone."

He didn’t even see me move until my knife was buried in his throat. Blood sprayed, and he fell at my feet.

Now no one spoke. The only sound was the man choking on his own blood before he went still.

I looked at the rest. “This street is mine. You either bow or you bleed.”

One by one, they dropped to their knees. Both sides. Even the loud ones.

“Good,” I said, slipping my knife away. “Clean this up before sunrise.”

And I turned my back on them. None dared shoot.

I returned to the hotel. Lucas was standing by the entrance, along with the hotel's securities

I loosened my coat and handed it to him.

“We go to Iron Fortress tonight,” I said flatly. "To set Tilda free."

Lucas froze at the door. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uneasily. “Boss, it’s late already. Their walls are iron for a reason, and it's not safe to be on the street at night."

I looked up at him, my gaze sharp as broken glass. “I rule the night the as well as the day. Get the men ready. And bring me everything you have about Tilda’s arrest. Who set her up, and who benefits.”

He swallowed hard, nodding. “Right away, boss.”

I left him and walked toward the elevator. A group of women leaned against the wall, dresses clinging to their bodies like second skin. Escorts. They smiled, waved, one even winked.

I didn’t slow down. I didn’t even turn my head. The doors opened, and I stepped inside, pressing the button to the top floor.

People thought I hated women. Others accused me of being gay. 

The truth was darker. Since the night my white moonlight vanished from my life, no other woman had held meaning. 

She had been my only weakness, and her absence had sealed me in stone. No soft laugh could replace her. They were all ghosts beside her memory.

The elevator doors closed, and I walked in silence.

Inside my suite, I stripped and stepped into the shower. 

When I finished, I dressed in a fresh suit—black.

A knock sounded. Lucas entered, a folder in his hand, his face grim.

“The men are ready,” he said. His voice carried tension, but he knew better than to hesitate.

I adjusted my tie slowly, not answering.

“And I have intel,” he added quickly.

He opened the folder and laid several photographs on the table. 

One image showed a massive man with thick arms and a broad shoulders.

“She wasn’t just framed,” Lucas said carefully. “She was robbed. That man carried out the job. But I don’t know who he’s working for yet.”

I picked up the photo, my jaw tightening. “How much?” I asked coldly.

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Lucas replied.

The silence stretched. I set the photo down with deliberate care, then looked at him. “His name?”

“Sam Wilson.”

A slow, humorless smile touched my lips. “After we take Tilda from the fortress, you will take a team. Find Sam Wilson. Recover my money. Uncover who he serves. And then, kill him.”

Lucas bowed his head. “Yes, boss.”

Then we left the suite, straight to the lobby and out of the hotel.

Outside the hotel, four black SUVs sat like beasts ready to move. My men gathered around them with hard faces, and sharp eyes. 

I stepped forward. “Tonight, we are going for an operation, fully loaded," I told them. “With ammunition, guns, everything you need.”

I let my gaze sweep the line of men. Each man met it and did not flinch. “Tilda comes out of Iron King one of two ways,” I said. “Peacefully. Or by force.” I paused, letting the choice hang between them.

One of the younger men squared his jaw, eager for the second choice.

I allowed a small, dark smile. “We all know how boring peace can be.” The men let out low chuckles.

Lucas moved quickly, barking final orders and checking radios. The men climbed into the SUVs with practiced moves. Guns were slid into racks, vests tightened, and faces set for a showdown

I climbed into the lead car. Lucas took the front seat beside the driver. 

The other vehicles fell in behind us, as the engines started in unison and we drove off.

Within an hour or two, the convoy rolled to a stop before the Iron King fortress, its walls were so high, it felt like it reaches the sky.

I stepped out first, taking in the view. I didn’t bother giving orders; my men already knew the plan. Negotiate first. If that failed, fire and steel would do the talking.

The prison officers at the gate froze when they saw me. Fear tightened their faces, and they moved fast to open the gates. 

I walked in without a word with Lucas at my side and two of my men shadowing me.

Then I saw something that made me forget why is was here in the first place.

A van door slammed, and two officers dragged a prisoner out. She stumbled as she tried to regain her balance but didn’t fall.

She was cuffed, yet she held her chin high like a woman who isn't terrified of any prison walls. 

Her black hair fell against her shoulders, her eyes sharp enough to cut glass, and her face, quite hard to place, she looked both innocent and dangerous all at once.

I don’t know why, but I couldn't take my eyes of her. And then she looked towards my direction, our eyes met.

For a second, the prison disappeared, it was just us. 

Her brows furrowed, like she wanted to ask why I was staring.

“Sir,” one of the officers said, breaking the silence and awkwardness of the situation. “This way, please.”

I shook off the haze, turning to Lucas. “Change of plans. You’ll take Tilda home. I’ll handle Sam myself.” I didn't bother explaining, I felt like the lady has said it to me, without words.

Lucas blinked, but he knew better than to question me. He nodded.

My gaze drifted back to the prisoner as the guards shoved her forward. I gestured toward her, keeping my eyes on the officer nearest me.

“Who’s the girl?” I asked.

He swallowed hard. “Newest prisoner. Her name is Anna. Anna Robert.”