Where Broken Wings Fly Again: Touched by his Darkness

CHAPTER 8: The devil without mercy

The warehouse was no longer silent. It was suffocating. Seraphina stood frozen behind the chair, her wrists still bound, her breathing uneven as she stared at Matthew Kingswell. But something about him had changed. This was not the man she had seen in the mansion. This was something colder. Something far more dangerous. As if the moment he stepped into the warehouse, the air itself lost warmth.

The man in charge sneered.

“So you really came.”

Matthew did not answer. He simply walked forward. Slowly. Unhurried. As though nothing in front of him mattered enough to rush.

Seraphina’s heart tightened painfully.

Every instinct in her told her to look away—but she couldn’t. One of the kidnappers suddenly moved.

“Kill him!”

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse. Then—

Silence.

The man fell instantly.

Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t even seen Matthew move. Everything after that turned into chaos. Men rushed forward from all sides.

Shouting.

Attacking.

But Matthew did not panic.

He did not rush. He moved like someone who already knew how everything would end.

Precise.

Controlled.

Unshaken.

One by one, the attackers collapsed. Not through struggle. Not through mercy. But through absolute finality. Seraphina trembled, unable to process what she was seeing.

“Stop…” she whispered weakly. “Please…”

But no one stopped.

Then, suddenly—

It was over. Silence returned.

Heavy.

Oppressive.

Final.

Bodies lay scattered across the warehouse floor and blood everywhere.

And in the center stood Matthew Kingswell.

Unmarked.

Untouched.

As if nothing had happened at all. Seraphina stared at him, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

This was not protection.

This was destruction.

Absolute and merciless.

“You…” she called, her voice shaking.

He turned toward her.

Calm.

Unreadable.

He stared for a while.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

That question felt too normal for what surrounded them.

Seraphina shook her head slowly.

“No… I…”

Her voice broke.

“I saw you…”

Her throat tightened painfully.

“You killed them…”

Matthew stepped closer. Seraphina instinctively stepped back. He stopped immediately.

No force.

No pressure.

Just presence.

Heavy enough to suffocate.

“If I hadn’t come like that,” he said calmly, “you wouldn’t be standing here.”

Seraphina’s eyes trembled.

“But you didn’t have to—”

“In my world,” he interrupted, voice steady, “there is no ''have to'.”

A pause.

“There is only survival.”

The words settled like a weight in her chest.

"Just like how you didn't survive your relatives."

Seraphina was shocked and looked at him again.

Not as the man who saved her.

But as the man who destroyed everything in front of her without hesitation.

Her voice came out small.

“…What are you?”

Matthew was silent for a moment.

Then he answered quietly.

“Your husband.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“Let’s go home.”

He turned and walked away.

Seraphina remained standing in the middle of the ruined warehouse.

Her hands were still trembling.

Her heart was no longer just afraid of what happened—

But afraid of the man she had been brought into contact with. Because now she understood something clearly. Matthew Kingswell was not just powerful. He was ruthless without mercy. And the world he lived in… was not meant for someone like her and she had to learned it.

Learn to be like him for revenge.