Chapter 618: Ashes of Vengeance
Three days passed.
The city moved on.
New scandals broke.
The news cycle churned.
Another man lost, another tragedy swallowed.
But not for those who had seen the flames that night.
Not for Matilda.
She sat alone in a grimy motel room, clutching the black key Jayden had pressed into her hand.
No tears left.
Only silence.
And one thought, sharp as a blade:
> "This isn't over."
---
Far from the city's beating heart, in an abandoned subway tunnel forgotten by time, a man stood before a cracked mirror.
Bandages wrapped his ribs, blood dried along his skin.
His eyes, once warm, now burned cold.
Jayden wasn't dead.
He had faked the final scene.
Planned every second.
Every betrayal.
Every shot.
Pain was temporary.
Betrayal was eternal.
And the world had taught him its final lesson:
> "Mercy is for the weak."
He would not make the same mistake again.
---
The man called Aiden thought he had won.
He moved freely now — attending gala events, smiling for the cameras, sleeping like a king in the penthouse that once belonged to Jayden.
But power built on betrayal crumbles fastest.
At midnight, Aiden received a box at his doorstep.
No sender.
No name.
Inside:
A black chess knight.
A bloodstained bullet.
And a note:
> "Your move. — J"
For the first time in years, Aiden's hand trembled.
---
Matilda opened the locker at Central Station.
Inside was a thin folder.
Names.
Faces.
Secrets.
All the monsters hiding in the city's shadows.
All the enemies Jayden had unearthed.
And a simple message:
> "Burn them all.
If you survive, find me.
If you don't... know that I never regretted saving you.
— Jayden"
She closed the locker, the edges of the folder biting into her palms.
Her fear died there.
Replaced by something harder.
Sharper.
Vengeance.
---
Jayden moved through the underworld like a ghost.
He didn't show mercy.
He didn't offer warnings.
One by one, the men and women who had conspired against him — who had betrayed him, used him, discarded him — began to vanish.
Some found dead in alleyways.
Some ruined financially.
Some exposed, their crimes laid bare before the ravenous press.
And always the same signature:
A black chess knight left behind.
The city started to whisper.
They called it an omen.
The Black Knight had returned.
---
But even as Jayden tore through his enemies, a darker force stirred.
Someone was watching him.
Someone smarter.
Colder.
Not everyone had abandoned Jayden willingly.
Some had been forced.
Some... wanted him back.
Not to save him.
But to control him.
And somewhere, in the luxurious darkness of a private jet slicing through the night sky, a voice murmured:
> "Bring him to me. Alive or broken — I don't care.
The game isn't over.
It's just begun."
---