The Paramount Warlord

Chapter 4

Kevin's face darkened, his pupils narrowing to sharp pinpoints as he fixed Whitney with a cold, piercing glare. His voice was icy and deliberate. "Brat, are you the one screwing with my plans? Do you even know what you've done?"

His gaze bore into Whitney, unflinching. Whitney, with his towering, muscular frame and the deadly aura that seemed to radiate from him, might have been intimidating to anyone else. But Kevin remained unfazed. With the number of men he had on his side, dealing with one Whitney was hardly a concern.

Whitney's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as his sharp eyes swept over the group standing before him. His voice, low and cutting, carried an edge that could slice through steel. "I'll ask this once—where are my wife and daughter?"

Kevin blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, as realization dawned, a cold smirk curled his lips. "Your wife and daughter?" he repeated mockingly. "Don't tell me... you're Monroe's pathetic excuse for a husband? Why are you here? To play the hero and save them?"

"Hah!" One of Kevin's men burst into laughter, his tone dripping with disdain. "If he was capable of saving anyone, he wouldn't have left Monroe to fend for herself seven years ago!"

"Exactly!" another chimed in, his voice filled with scorn. "Look at him—he's nothing but skin and bones. One punch, and he'd be out cold. What a joke!"

Whitney didn't so much as glance at them. His eyes, however, shifted past the group, locking onto a door that was slightly ajar.

Through the narrow opening, he caught a glimpse of Monroe. She was lying on the bed, her body limp and disheveled. Her clothes had been torn to shreds, leaving her clad in nothing but a pair of pink underwear.

Despite her pitiful state, she clung tightly to the little girl in her arms, shielding her with every ounce of strength she had left. Her frail body served as a barrier, refusing to let any harm come to her child. But even so, the little girl lay unconscious, her face pale and lifeless. Her fragile condition was painfully clear.

A surge of fury erupted in Whitney's chest, his blood boiling as his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned pale. His eyes burned with rage, a storm of anger that threatened to consume him. "D*mn it. D*mn it!"

Kevin, far from being intimidated, threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the room. "Oh? Look at his face. I was starting to wonder if you were completely dead inside. But what difference does it make? Go ahead, rage all you want—it won't change a d*mn thing. Today, you'll have no choice but to endure it."

Kevin's smirk widened, his arrogance practically dripping from every word. "Let me make this clear for you. Not only are your woman and daughter not leaving here alive, but neither are you."

"Boss, I've had enough of this id*ot. Let me finish him off already," one of Kevin's lackeys snarled, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward.

"Wait," Kevin said with a shake of his head, his lips curling into a sinister grin. His eyes gleamed with malice as he turned back to Whitney. "I have a better idea. I'm going to tie him up and make him watch while I r*pe his woman right in front of him. How's that for a show? Hahaha!"

"Boss, you're a genius!" one of his men chimed in, grinning as he gave Kevin an eager thumbs-up. "I'll tie him up right now!"

The lackey grabbed a length of rope and strode toward Whitney, his expression twisted with malice. He sneered, his voice dripping with cruelty. "Listen up, punk. If you've got any sense, you'll surrender now. Otherwise, you'll be begging us to end it by the time we're done with you."

He lunged forward, rope in hand, ready to subdue Whitney.

Boom!

Before he could take another step, Whitney's fist shot out like a bolt of lightning.

The punch landed squarely in the lackey's abdomen with devastating force. The man's face instantly contorted in agony, his mouth opening in a silent scream before a guttural cry tore from his throat. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach as waves of excruciating pain wracked his body.

The sudden and violent turn of events drained all color from Kevin's face. He stared at Whitney, his eyes wide with shock and terror.

"Murder! Someone's been killed!" a young man with dyed yellow hair screamed, his voice cracking with panic. Though they were used to petty crimes—harassing women, stealing, and causing trouble—they were nothing more than small-time thugs. When faced with real violence, with blood and death, their bravado crumbled instantly.

Chaos erupted. When they looked at Whitney now, it was as though they were staring into the eyes of a demon.

"You dared to hurt my wife and daughter. None of you will leave here alive. Every last one of you will die." Whitney's words, hoarse and cold, sent a chill down their spines, the sound like metal grinding against stone.

Kevin's body began to quake uncontrollably. His voice trembled as he stammered, "W-Whitney, w-what are you doing? Don't do anything stupid! You'll regret it!"

In his desperation, Kevin stumbled backward, falling to the ground. His legs flailed as he tried to crawl away.

The man who had been so arrogant moments ago was now reduced to a cowering, trembling mess, leaving only the raw, primal fear of a man staring death in the face.

Whitney let out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Scared now? Where was this fear when you hurt my wife and daughter? Did you ever think about how desperate they must have been? How terrified?" Without warning, Whitney raised his right hand and swung it sharply through the air.

A streak of blue lightning crackled and shot forward, illuminating the room in a blinding flash. The two men standing closest to Kevin didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to ash. Their bodies disintegrated on the spot, leaving nothing behind but a faint trace of smoke in the air.

Kevin's mind refused to believe what his eyes had seen. "This... this isn't real," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Whitney's actions shattered everything Kevin thought he knew about the world.

"Lightning? This isn't just strength—this is something beyond human comprehension!" Kevin whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "Is he... the God of Thunder?" His panic escalated into full-blown hysteria. "Whitney, you can't kill me! I'm one of Frank Edwards' men! If you touch me, Mr. Edwards will come after you! You'll never escape him!"

Kevin's voice cracked. "Not only you but your wife and daughter—they'll die too! Do you think you're strong? Fine, I'll admit it, you're strong. But Mr. Edwards's power is beyond anything you could ever imagine!"

"Frank Edwards?" Whitney's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. He grabbed Kevin by the throat and hoisted him into the air as though he weighed nothing. His gaze bore into Kevin's, unrelenting and merciless. "Was it his order for you to harm my wife and daughter?"

Kevin's breath came in short, ragged gasps as he struggled against Whitney's grip. The pressure on his throat was unbearable, and his neck twisted unnaturally under the crushing force.

"I... won't tell you..." Even with his life hanging by a thread, Kevin refused to give up any information.

Whitney's grip tightened.

"Ah!" Kevin screamed as pain shot through his body. It felt as though Whitney's hand was about to snap his neck in two.

Whitney's left hand shot out, striking Kevin's left arm with brutal force.

The sickening sound of bones snapping echoed through the room. Kevin's arm twisted grotesquely, and the bone shattered, leaving it a mangled, bloody mess. The sight was enough to make even the most hardened of men shudder.

But Whitney wasn't finished.

Bang! Another punch landed, this time squarely on Kevin's face. His nose crumpled under the impact, flattening against his face like a smashed piece of fruit. Blood poured from his nostrils, soaking his lips and chin.

Kevin's body convulsed as waves of pain wracked him. He couldn't even muster the strength to scream anymore. All he could do was clutch at his ruined face, his body twitching as he teetered on the edge of consciousness.

Whitney's cold, unfeeling gaze remained locked on Kevin. His voice was calm, almost eerily so, as he said, "I'll ask you one last time. Was this Frank's doing?"