No More Warnings

Pante thought he had Jasper trapped. That he could threaten Mark and make Jasper back down.

Big mistake.

Jasper wasn't playing defense anymore.

He was ending this. Now.

Jasper didn't wait. The second Pante stood to leave, Jasper moved.

A metal tray—weaponized.

He grabbed it tight, fingers curling around the edges, and as Pante turned—

CRACK!!!

The tray smashed into Pante's face.

Blood sprayed. A sickening crunch echoed through the cafeteria as Pante's nose broke, his body staggering back onto the table.

Silence.

For the first time, Pante nox looked shocked.

Jasper didn't stop.

He grabbed Pante by the collar, yanked him forward, and drove a knee into his gut.

Pante gasped, choking, doubling over.

Everyone watched.

Pante's enforcers hesitated—because this wasn't just a fight anymore. This was a statement.

Jasper leaned in, gripping Pante's bloody face.

"You thought you could control me?" Jasper hissed. "That was your last mistake."

Dante wheezed, blood dripping onto the table. "You… don't know what you just did."

Jasper slammed him onto the floor. Hard.

"I know exactly what I did."

The room exploded.

Pante's men lunged—too late. Jasper dodged a punch, slammed an elbow into someone's throat. Trays flew, fists swung. The guards reacted too slow—for the first time, Pante wasn't in control.

Jasper didn't care.

He grabbed a fork from the table, turned to finish this—

WHAM!

A baton crashed into the back of his skull.

His vision went black.

Pain.

Blinding, crushing pain.

Jasper opened his eyes to flickering fluorescent lights.

His head pounded. His arms? Chained.

Solitary. Again.

Except this time, it wasn't just a punishment.

This was war.

And when Ethan got out?

Pante Knox was dead.