The Fall of the First House

Chapter 11

Orion City – Xander Conglomerate Tower

A storm brewed over the city, thick clouds rolling in like an omen of the bloodshed to come. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the fortress of glass and steel that was the Xander Conglomerate Tower.

Inside, the upper floors pulsed with tension.

Victor Xander sat in his executive suite, a glass of whiskey in hand. His knee, still ruined from Damien's last attack, throbbed with a dull ache, but his mind was sharp, burning with rage.

Across from him, his remaining lieutenants sat stiffly, awaiting his orders.

"We underestimated him," one of them admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Victor's eyes snapped toward the man like a predator catching a scent.

"No," he said coldly. "You underestimated him. I knew he was dangerous. I told you to prepare, and you failed me."

Silence. No one dared to speak.

"Now," Victor exhaled, swirling the whiskey in his glass, "he's coming for all of us."

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

Victor's personal bodyguard, Lucas Vance, entered, his expression grim.

"Sir," Lucas said cautiously. "We have a problem."

Victor's grip on his glass tightened. "What kind of problem?"

Lucas hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then—

"Elias Creed has defected."

The words hung in the air like a gunshot.

Victor's expression darkened. His fingers tensed around his glass—then, in one sharp motion, he threw it against the wall.

The crystal shattered on impact, whiskey dripping down the sleek, obsidian panels.

"You're telling me," Victor said slowly, voice dangerously low, "that my best assassin—the man I paid millions for—is now working for Damien?"

Lucas swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. Reports confirm it. He's already made his move."

Victor's breath was slow. Controlled. Murderous.

"Where?"

Lucas's next words sent a cold wave of realization crashing through the room.

"The House of Langston."

Orion City – The Langston Estate

Heavy rain pounded against the sprawling estate, each droplet masking the death creeping through the shadows.

Inside, Gregory Langston, one of Victor Xander's closest allies, sat in his private study, oblivious to the fate descending upon him.

He poured himself a drink, reclining in his leather chair, when—

His lights cut out.

For a moment, silence.

Then—a single flicker.

The emergency lights came to life in a dim, reddish glow, barely illuminating the opulent room.

Langston frowned. "What the hell—"

CRACK.

A gunshot rang through the halls.

Langston's blood ran cold.

He shot to his feet, knocking his drink over as he reached for his desk drawer, yanking out a .357 Magnum revolver.

But before he could react—

The door to his study opened.

And there, standing in the dim red glow, was Elias Creed.

Dressed in black tactical gear, his signature silencer-equipped pistol held casually at his side, Elias stepped forward. His movements were controlled, predatory.

Langston raised his gun instantly.

"Don't," Elias said simply.

Langston's fingers trembled against the trigger. "You—you work for Victor."

Elias tilted his head slightly. "Not anymore."

Langston's mind raced.

"Wait—wait!" he stammered. "We can talk about this. You don't have to do this."

Elias smiled. It wasn't reassuring.

"That's where you're wrong."

He took another step closer.

Langston fired.

BANG!

But before the shot could even land—

Elias moved.

Faster than Langston's eyes could track.

In a blink, he sidestepped the bullet and closed the distance—grabbing Langston's wrist and twisting it violently.

CRACK.

Langston screamed as his gun fell from his grasp.

Elias shoved him back, slamming him into the wall.

"You were Victor's closest ally," Elias murmured. "That makes you the first example."

Langston panted, eyes wild with terror. "Damien—Damien sent you?"

Elias didn't answer. He simply pressed his silencer to Langston's forehead.

Langston whimpered. "Please. I—I have money—"

Elias sighed. "You people always think money can fix everything."

A pause.

Then—he lowered the gun.

Langston gasped in relief.

But the relief was short-lived.

Elias grabbed Langston by the collar and hauled him toward the window.

Langston's eyes widened in horror. "Wait—NO—"

Elias didn't stop.

With one brutal motion, he threw Langston through the glass.

CRASH!

Langston's body hurtled through the rainstorm—falling five stories.

Straight into the courtyard below.

A sickening thud echoed through the estate.

Elias turned away, slipping his gun back into his holster.

His earpiece crackled to life.

Damien's voice was calm. "It's done?"

Elias smirked. "The first house has fallen."

A pause. Then Damien spoke again.

"Good. Now we move to the next."

Elias exhaled, looking down at Langston's lifeless body.

Victor's empire was crumbling.

And this was just the beginning.

Xander Conglomerate Tower – Victor's Office

Lucas Vance's phone buzzed. He picked it up, listening silently before turning back to Victor.

"Sir," Lucas said, voice grim. "Langston is dead."

Victor's jaw tightened.

His grip on his cane turned white-knuckled.

His empire was being dismantled—systematically.

Piece by piece.

By his own blood.

He turned toward his remaining lieutenants. His voice was cold. Final.

"We kill him," Victor said. "I don't care what it takes. I don't care how many bodies it costs."

His fury burned through the room like wildfire.

"We end Damien. Now."