The President's Daughter
1329 Words
Bryan's gaze darted toward the door as one of the men hurled a small, ticking bomb into the tattoo shop.
"BEEP."
His mind raced as the countdown began, the men outside grinning, counting down to what they thought was his inevitable demise.
"Five... Four..." their voices rang out, their faces twisted with grim satisfaction.
"A bomb!" Lyra screamed in fear, shocked by how calm Bryan was.
"I know," Bryan said calmly.
Unknown to them, Bryan moved fast. He grabbed the bomb from where it had landed and swiftly tucked it into Matteo Montoya’s coat.
Without hesitation, he flung the coat toward the open door.
The men outside barely noticed when one of them, the leader who had given the order to throw the bomb, instinctively caught it.
“Why the hell did he throw Montoya’s coat out—” The man's voice cut off as a deafening sound erupted, shaking the ground beneath them.
The explosion tore through the air with a force that shattered the windows of their vehicles and sent bodies flying.
"Ahhh!"
Screams echoed, mixing with the violent sound of limbs hitting the pavement.
Blood splattered everywhere, and in an instant, the grins on their faces were replaced by pain and terror.
Some men were missing arms, others legs—bodies scattered across the ground, writhing in pain.
"Gentlemen," Bryan greeted them in a low, calm, and natural voice.
Bryan stepped through the smoke, his expression cold as he surveyed the destruction.
Blood pooled at his feet as he stepped across it.
"Hey," Lyra called.
Behind him, Lyra stumbled out of the shop, her eyes wide with shock. The devastation was too much for her to process.
She gazed at the scene, stunned, before turning to Bryan.
“How can one man do this... to fifteen armed men?” Her words trembled as she spoke.
Bryan didn't flinch. “You’re not safe here for a while,” he said calmly. “Don’t come to your shop for a few days. Make sure it’s clear.”
Lyra nodded, still in disbelief. "Who are you?" she asked, marveling at the force and brilliance he displayed.
“I’m the Apex War God, out for revenge,” Bryan said, his tone flat and devoid of any boastfulness.
She blinked, the title foreign to her ears. "I don’t know what that means," she admitted, "but..." She trailed off, staring at him, unsure how to process everything.
“Will I see you again?” she asked, still overwhelmed by the chaos around her.
“Maybe,” Bryan replied, his voice steady, “maybe not.”
Lyra nodded slowly, glancing back at the ruined shop one last time before walking away.
She didn’t dare look back at the c*****e, though the image of it would likely haunt her for days.
The moment she disappeared into the distance, Bryan's calm expression faded.
His eyes locked onto one of the men still barely alive, gasping for breath. He approached the man, his boots crushing the broken glass as he knelt beside him.
"How does it feel to lie helpless in pain? My father went through worse in your hands," he said.
"Although I'm yet to get my hands on the real person who fired that last bullet, your leader, Dante Romano," Bryan said calmly.
The man coughed, blood bubbling from his lips, his body broken from the explosion.
He tried to move, to grab a gun, but Bryan placed his boot on the man’s hand, applying just enough pressure to make him scream.
"Ahhh!"
“Where is she?” Bryan asked coldly.
The man groaned, his eyes rolling in pain. “I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gasped, wheezing as he tried to speak.
Bryan pressed down harder, his boot crushing the man’s fingers, drawing another scream. “Where is the president’s daughter? Freya, the 25-year-old woman your people kidnapped last night.”
The man’s eyes widened at the mention of Freya, fear creeping into his expression.
He spat out more blood before answering, his voice hoarse. “She’s... she’s on her way out of the country. On a ship, as we speak. You’ll never reach her,” he sneered, despite his pain.
"You’re too late, and even if you get there in time, you’ll never get past the 4th BVG Army guarding her."
"There are just too many of us. You can't win this war! Hahaha, you'll only die like your foolish father!"
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though it was cut short by another fit of coughing.
Bryan’s face remained emotionless. Without a word, he shifted his weight, moving his boot from the man’s hand to his throat.
Crick...
He pressed down, watching as the man’s laughter turned to choking gasps, his face growing pale as the life drained from him.
“I’ll make sure to send the rest of you to hell,” Bryan said coldly.
With one final press, the man’s body went limp beneath him.
Bryan stepped away, his mind already calculating the next move. Freya was out there, and he had little time to waste.
Soon, Bryan heard a phone ringing. The phone lay on the floor in the distance, unaffected by the explosion.
He walked over to it, grabbed it, and picked up the call.
"Hello, Frank," the voice on the phone said, but Bryan didn't respond, only listening.
“The ship moves in 30 minutes,” the voice on the other end said, oblivious to the fact that Bryan was now listening.
“The girl will soon be handed over to the man who paid a fortune to get her in his bed. After he’s done, we’ll see if any other clients have an interest. Might take her to another location, sell her again. Make good money off her before she’s used up.”
Bryan’s jaw tightened, his grip on the phone so strong it was a wonder the device didn’t shatter in his hand.
His blood boiled as he imagined the terror that Freya, the president’s daughter, was enduring.
Without hesitation, he cast the phone into the distance, the sound of it clattering against the pavement doing little to alleviate his anger.
His eyes moved to a motorcycle parked outside a small mall near the tattoo shop. Wasting no time, Bryan sprinted toward it, jumping on the bike and starting the engine.
He sped away...
---
In about 20 minutes...
Bryan arrived at the port where the cargo ship was being loaded.
He parked the motorcycle at a distance, his gaze scanning the area with precision.
"There!" he muttered.
His eyes landed on a tall building nearby, and he climbed to the top.
From that point, Bryan spotted the men below. There were three of them, forming a tight circle around a young woman.
Even from the distance, he could tell she was beautiful—perhaps the most stunning woman he had seen in years.
"Freya, this must be her," Bryan muttered.
But what made his blood run cold was the way the men were handling her, passing her between themselves like she was a toy.
One of the men began to unbuckle his belt and undo his zip.
“It’s time for the real fun, guys!” he chuckled, looking at the other two men. “Don’t worry, boys. We’ll all take our turns.”
They laughed, vile and cruel, as Freya’s pleas filled the air.
"Please, this isn't right. You— You can't do this, please..." Freya cried.
"Shut up!" The man silenced her, yanking her and pulling her closer.
"It's time to make me feel like a real man," he said as he pulled down his pants.
"Boys, everyone gets to have her for five minutes only, before the ship takes off!" he announced to the other two, and they cheered.
"Please, I beg of you!" Freya screamed.
Her voice shook as she begged them to stop, tears streaming down her face.
But the men ignored her...
- Writer
