Chapter 4 The Reaper Appears
The massive oak double doors exploded into splinters in an instant, wood fragments flying like bullets and slamming hard into the walls of the private room.
The sudden crash left everyone inside frozen in shock, all eyes snapping toward the entrance.
It was James. He stood there like a god of death stepping out of hell, radiating a cold, suffocating killing intent.
"What the f**k! Who the hell are you? You think you can just barge into Osiris territory and live? You got a death wish!"
Augustus roared, hurling his cigar to the ground.
The two gang enforcers closest to the door immediately drew their Glocks and charged at James, faces twisted with fury.
But before they could even raise their weapons, James moved like a ghost. Military close-quarters combat — clean, explosive, and brutal.
His hands shot out like iron clamps, fingers locking onto the backs of both men's skulls, then he slammed them together with savage force.
Their heads cracked into each other like overripe watermelons. A red and white mess sprayed across the nearby gang members. Neither man got out so much as a scream before they crumpled to the floor like empty sacks.
The sheer brutality and efficiency of it made every thug in the room — men who'd only ever preyed on ordinary people — go dead silent.
And in that split second of stunned hesitation, James had already stepped over the bodies and was standing in front of Sophia, who lay on the floor.
"I'm sorry. I should have been here sooner."
A single tear slid down James's face. He scooped up Sophia with one arm — she'd passed out from the alcohol and the shock — and pulled a trembling Stella tightly against his side with the other.
Only then did the gang members snap out of it. More than twenty submachine guns and pistols were raised at once, bolts racked back, every black barrel aimed straight at James.
Augustus slammed his hand on the table and sneered. "Not bad. But you really think one man can walk out of here with this many guns pointed at him? Don't say I didn't play fair — after I put you down, your wife and daughter? We'll still have plenty of fun with them."
Crude threats and jeers filled the room. James's expression stayed cold and hard, his sharp eyes sweeping across these men who treated human lives like nothing.
"You people belong in hell."
His voice was low, but it carried absolute authority. "For what you just did, and for every crime the Osiris organization has committed against Novaria — I, acting in the name of Novaria's Northern Reaper, hereby sentence you all to death. Effective immediately."
The Northern Reaper?
The room went dead silent. Every voice cut off at once, as if the air itself had frozen. Every eye locked onto James.
The name "the Reaper" — in the underground world and military circles across the West, it was a name that meant one thing: death had arrived.
"Pfft — HAHAHA!"
Augustus burst out laughing, doubling over, tears streaming down his face. "The Reaper General? That's the biggest load of bull I've ever heard! If you're the Presidential Reaper, then I'm Superman! Open fire — turn him into paste!"
But the words had barely left Augustus's mouth.
James stomped his boot hard on the floor.
Every massive bulletproof window around the room shattered simultaneously from shaped explosive charges.
Flashbang grenades tumbled into the space. Blinding white light and deafening blasts filled the room — and then a dozen figures in full black tactical heavy armor came rappelling through the broken windows as they'd dropped straight from the sky.
At the same time, more elite operators poured in through the blown-out doorway, HK416 assault rifles up and ready.
Tactical infrared lasers snapped onto the forehead of every single gang member in the room. The weight of that cold, iron-blooded presence hit Augustus and the others like ice water in their veins.
The lead operator, Erin, strode forward and dropped to one knee in the broken glass, voice crisp and solemn:
"Reaper Guard reporting late, sir. We ask your forgiveness."
Augustus's legs gave out. He sank to his knees, his gun slipping from his fingers. His face was blank with horror and despair.
He was real. The man who had the entire Western world terrified — the Reaper General — was standing right in front of him.
One mile away, on the road outside the building.
A large Luminous City Police Special Operations unit was locked and ready. Several armored vehicles had sealed off every exit.
Standing at the front, directing the operation, was David Harris — a senior commander in the Luminous City Police.
"Sir, are we not moving in?" one of the tactical team captains asked.
David shook his head, his eyes fixed on the building in the distance with something close to reverence. "No. We hold here, secure the perimeter, and go in for cleanup afterward. The Northern Reaper is handling it personally."
His wife and daughter had been taken. Every last member of Osiris in that building wouldn't leave in one piece.
Standing beside David was a heavyset white politician, and next to him, a young man in a tailored suit.
That young man was Richard — the same Richard who'd been turned down just yesterday at the restaurant.
"Uncle, is the Reaper General really in there?" Richard asked, his face stunned.
The politician nodded and lowered his voice. "Richard, you just finished your service and you're about to take over as Special Operations Captain at the city precinct. I brought you here tonight so you could witness a top-level Novaria operation firsthand. Remember — the Reaper General is a legend that everyone of us looks up to. If you come face to face with him, show nothing but the highest respect."
"Understood!" Richard's hands were shaking with excitement. The Presidential ultimate weapon — in the flesh.
At that moment, a message came through David's earpiece from Erin. He snapped to attention, then turned to the others. "The room is clear. The Reaper General has requested identity confidentiality and has already exited through a secure channel. Three hostages have been recovered and need an escort."
When they heard the Reaper General was already gone, both Richard and the politician couldn't hide their disappointment.
David turned to them. "Senator, would you mind taking Richard in that Chevrolet Suburban to collect the hostages? I'll assign two Bear armored vehicles to escort you and make sure they get out safely."
"Happy to help." Richard climbed straight into the armored Suburban.
When the SUV pulled around to the back of the warehouse and the hostages were brought out, Richard buckled his seatbelt and turned around with what he thought was his most charming smile.
"I'm Richard, Luminous City Special Operations Captain. You're safe now — Sophia?"
He froze. He stared at Sophia, unconscious across the back seat, and Stella, still quietly sobbing beside her.
"Richard?"
From the shadows in the back, James's cold voice cut through.
James hadn't expected it either — that the driver sent to collect them would be this particular hypocrite.
"You—" Richard spotted James. He flinched for just a second, then a mocking smirk spread across his face.
"James? You think a loser like you has any right to talk about protecting Sophia? This is the 'completely different life' you promised her? You couldn't even keep your own family safe — the gang scooped up all three of you? That's pathetic. You're a joke."
James didn't bother responding. He looked down and gently rubbed Stella's back. "Drive the car. This has nothing to do with you."
Richard let out a cold snort, said nothing more, and hit the gas — but inside, he was practically gloating.
James, you useless piece of work. Four years in the military and you couldn't even protect your wife and kid. The gang grabbed all of you in one go. Perfect timing — now I get to make sure Sophia knows it was me, Richard, who brought the police in and saved them.
He pulled out his phone and, with one hand on the wheel, fired off a text to Sophia's mother, Josephine.
