Gathering Storm

"You're a bunch of useless trash! What good are you if all you do is hang your heads and admit your mistakes?" Tom barked. "You're not even fit to clean toilets!"

His neck veins bulged as he gestured wildly. Suddenly, in a fit of rage, he slammed the butt of his gun into the face of a low-ranking subordinate, blood splattering and knocking the guy out cold.

"For hours—eight or nine in the evening all the way till dawn—it's been nothing but bad news!"

"Our Shelby family just crushed the Pengellet clan and was on the verge of ruling this whole city. We had an alliance with the Ten Old Men. We were about to take over!"

"But now? Griffin's dead, our city strongholds are under attack, and our search teams keep getting ambushed!"

"Hundreds of our best men are dead, our elite strike teams wiped out!"

Tom's voice cracked with rage. "And you idiots still have no clue who's behind the ambushes?"

He looked like a desperate gambler who'd lost everything. His family's forces were exhausted, and with everything falling apart, what chance did he have to rule Nacro City or stand against the Ten Old Men? The Shelby family was collapsing, and it made Tom so furious he could've killed.

"You keep blaming Vega. That damned man the Pengellets brought in. Like some bloodthirsty beast," Tom growled as he grabbed his top subordinate, John, by the collar. "Tell me, Pengellet was nearly wiped out by us. Their top and middle ranks were slaughtered or wounded. How the hell do they still have survivors?"

"All our elite troops are gone—where the hell is Vega getting all these men?"

John swallowed hard, staring down at the floor. He didn't dare argue.

Tom pressed the cold barrel of his revolver against John's temple. "Speak. Now. If you're useless, I swear I'll kill you."

John trembled but blurted out, "My lord, there's news—his men just sent intelligence."

Tom's eyes gleamed with deadly intent. "Then spit it out. Don't waste my time."

John hurried on, "Someone survived. They say Vega commands a squad dressed in black who keep attacking our men."

"Those warriors aren't just strong—they're relentless killers. When they die, they break apart and vanish."

Tom stared in disbelief, anger boiling over. "What nonsense is that? Who breaks into pieces when they die? Are you making this up to save your skin?"

Just as Tom pulled the trigger in fury, a figure suddenly stepped into the room.

Without even glancing at Tom, a man in his thirties with a goatee and a lean build fixed a sharp gaze on John. "Boy, repeat what you just said—carefully."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

John quickly turned to the newcomer—the bodyguard who always followed Lord Daniel.

Lord Daniel was a powerful man nobody dared to cross.

Knowing his life depended on Daniel's favor, John nodded eagerly and whispered the intelligence to the bodyguard.