Chapter 28: Closer to the Edge
The city pulsed with tension as Alexander Reid returned to his penthouse after his visit to the factory. The message from Anton Vasiliev was burned into his mind—"Reid. Soon." It was not merely a threat; it was a promise. A declaration that the hunt was truly underway. Each step Alexander took toward his sanctuary felt heavier than the last, the weight of the impending confrontation pressing down on him like an unseen force.
Alexander moved through his home, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He checked every entry point, inspecting every lock, every reinforced steel plate hidden beneath the windows. He tested the sensors embedded in the walls, ensuring his alarms were functioning perfectly. His eyes traced the fine lines of the tripwires he had placed near the entrances, delicate but deadly. He inspected every weapon stashed in every corner—a knife under the kitchen counter, a loaded handgun taped beneath the coffee table, and a sawed-off shotgun concealed behind a false panel in his wardrobe. Each check was methodical, his mind rehearsing scenarios of intrusion and ambush. The walls of his sanctuary seemed to close in around him, but he welcomed the confinement. He needed the structure—the preparation—to stay sharp. One mistake would mean death.
The system window appeared in his vision, a cold reminder of the path he had chosen. The blue glow flickered in his peripheral vision as his breathing steadied.
[Level: 10] [Strength: 42] [Agility: 38] [Intelligence: 16] [Endurance: 32] [Stat Points Available: 3]
Alexander allocated the points with practiced ease—two into Strength, one into Agility. His muscles tightened, his reflexes sharpened. He felt the surge of power coursing through his veins, his body adjusting to the upgrade. His grip on his knife felt firmer, his posture more balanced. Yet, the sensation was no longer exhilarating. It was necessary. He was building himself into a weapon—every enhancement was survival.
His phone buzzed, slicing through the silence. Marcus.
Alexander answered, his tone low and steady. "Talk to me."
"He's asking about your family now," Marcus said, his voice heavy with concern. "Vasiliev isn't just coming for you. He wants to destroy everything around you."
The words struck like a hammer to Alexander's chest. His family in this world—they were distant, but they were still his blood. He had worked tirelessly to shield them from the violence he had embraced. He had hoped to keep them separate from his war. But Vasiliev was dragging him deeper, threatening to unravel the fragile barrier he had built.
Alexander's grip tightened around his phone, his knuckles whitening. His jaw clenched as his mind raced through possible contingencies. Moving them somewhere safe was the obvious choice, but it could also expose them. Any visible movement might lead Vasiliev straight to them. This was not just an attack on his body; it was an attack on his mind.
"I'll handle it," Alexander replied, his tone colder than he intended.
Marcus paused. He knew that tone—the tone of a man pushed to his limits. "Just be careful, kid. This guy doesn't play by the rules. He tears through them."
Alexander nodded, though Marcus couldn't see him. "I know."
He ended the call and stared out over the city. The skyline was a battlefield now. Every building held danger; every shadow could hide death. He traced the streets below with his eyes, his mind mapping routes, escape paths, vantage points. Vasiliev was closing in. The Butcher was drawing him to the edge.
But Alexander would not fall.
He would fight. And he would win.
The war was only beginning.
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