Chapter 89 HUNT
On the other side of the city, Julian and Anton were hunting.
The air inside the car felt tight and heavy like one could suffocate in there.
Anton drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear, eyes sharp on the road. Julian sat in the back, leaning into the corner, a cigarette between his fingers.
The window was slightly open. Smoke slipped out in thin lines.
Julian took a slow drag. His hand twitched from anger, pure violent anger.
“I’m going to kill him,” Julian said quietly.
Anton didn’t look back. “Which one?”
Julian let out a dry laugh. “Depends on who has him.”
Anton nodded once. “Oh, your head must be fun to be in.”
Julian tapped ash out the window. “I let that bastard live too many times.”
“Desmond?” Anton asked.
Julian’s jaw tightened. “He forgot his place.”
Anton smirked a little. “Happens when you don’t break someone's limbs properly.”
Julian didn’t respond. He just stared ahead, eyes dark.
“He thinks he’s on my level,” Julian added after a moment. “By any means.”
Anton hummed. “He’s about to learn.”
Julian crushed the cigarette into the ashtray.
“Drive faster.”
“I already am,” Anton replied calmly.
The car sped through the road.
Silence again.
But not empty silence, it's the kind that sits before violence.
After a while, Anton slowed down.
“We’re here.”
The car rolled to a stop in front of a large house.
Desmond’s house.
Julian stepped out first.
Anton followed.
They walked to the door like they owned the place.
Anton knocked.
Once.
Twice.
The door opened slowly.
A young woman stood there.
Her eyes moved between them, nervous.
“How may I be of help to you gentlemen?” she asked softly.
Anton tilted his head. “You’re his wife.”
She hesitated. “Yes…”
“Where’s your husband?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
Anton stepped closer.
She instinctively stepped back.
“No?” Anton said calmly.
“He might be at work,” she rushed. “At the factory. He… he has a brewery at—”
“Take us there,” Anton cut in.
“I can write the address for you—”
Anton gently pulled a gun from his waist and the woman froze.
Her voice shook. “Of course… I can take you there.”
Julian said nothing.
He just watched her, eyes cold.
They escorted her to the car.
She sat in the front, stiff, hands in her lap.
Anton started the engine.
Julian lit another cigarette in the back.
“Drive,” Julian said.
The woman gave directions in a trembling voice.
“Turn left… then straight… then right at the next junction…”
The drive felt long. About forty-five minutes.
No one spoke much.
Only the sound of the engine.
And Julian’s quiet breathing.
When they finally arrived, the car slowed in front of a large building.
The brewery.
Anton parked.
They stepped out.
The guards at the entrance recognized the woman.
They let them in immediately with no questions.
Inside, the smell of alcohol filled the air.
Workers moved around.
Machines hummed.
But no one stopped them.
They walked straight through like they belonged there.
Like they owned it.
“That's his office.” Desmond's wife pointed as they approached Desmond's office.
Anton pushed open the office door without knocking.
The door slammed against the wall.
Inside—
Desmond.
And Lovia.
Making out half naked. Pressed against the desk, kissing with hands everywhere.
They froze for a second before hastily getting off each other.
Julian clapped slowly.
Once.
Twice.
A faint smile on his face.
“Feeling good?” he asked.
Lovia jumped back, rushing to fix her dress.
“Julian—”
Desmond straightened, anger flashing in his eyes.
Julian stepped further in.
“So this was your plan?” Julian said, looking at Lovia. “You want to marry me while getting fucked in a brewery, against a desk by a man as low life as this bastard?”
Lovia swallowed. “It’s not what it looks like—”
Desmond cut in, stepping forward. “What did you just say?”
Behind them, the woman’s voice shook.
“You’re cheating on me?”
Desmond froze.
Anton leaned casually against the wall, pulling out his phone.
“I got that on camera,” Anton said to Desmond's wife. “If you want a divorce, come to me. I’m a lawyer.”
He smiled slightly. “I’d love to represent you.”
The woman looked like she might cry.
Anton softened just a little.
“You can go,” he told her. “You don’t want to see what happens next.”
She hesitated, looking at Desmond one last time before she finally turned and ran.
The door shut behind her, leaving a heavy silence.
Lovia tried again. “Julian, listen— it's really not what it looked like.”
“It looked like you were getting fucked inside a brewery like a cheap slut. When you get home, cook something nice for your father because he's the only reason you're still standing after daring to spike my drink.”
“Julian, I—”
Julian raised a hand.
She stopped.
“I’m not here for you,” he said coldly.
He stepped closer to Desmond.
“Where is he?” Julian asked.
Desmond frowned. “Who?”
Julian stepped even closer. “Don’t play games with me.” His voice dropped. “I don’t play fair.”
A pause.
Then—
“Where is Eli?”
Desmond scoffed. “Oh, your little fuck toy? Why are you looking for him here? You think I have him?”
The punch came fast. It was so fast that Desmond didn’t even see it.
Julian’s fist slammed into his face.
Hard.
Desmond staggered back and tried to swing but Julian caught his wrist mid-air and twisted the hand.
“Are you fighting me?” Desmond asked and Julian responded with a kick. He kicked Desmond's leg out.
Desmond crashed to the ground.
Before he could react—
Julian was on him.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
Each hit louder than the last.
Each one heavier and angrier.
Desmond tried to block but awfully failed.
Blood smeared across his mouth, his nose, the floor.
Lovia screamed. “Julian, stop!”
Julian didn’t hear her. He didn’t care.
Anton sat down on the chair nearby, completely relaxed.
He picked up Desmond’s phone from the desk and started scanning something on it.
Lovia rushed forward, grabbing Julian’s arm.
“Stop it!”
Julian shoved her away.
Hard.
She stumbled back, her heel twisted, and she fell with a cry.
Julian didn’t even look at her.
He grabbed Desmond by the collar and lifted him up.
Desmond’s head lolled, breathing heavy, face wrecked.
“Where is Eli?” Julian asked again.
Desmond coughed. “I don’t… have him… I swear…”
Julian stared at him, searching and weighing.
Then he let go.
Desmond dropped—
Right onto Lovia.
She gasped in pain.
Julian turned away.
Done.
For now.
He walked out of the office without another word.
Anton stood, slipping the phone into his pocket.
He followed.
Outside, Anton exhaled. “Well. That was fun.”
Julian didn’t respond.
They kept walking.
“Calm down,” Anton added. “I got his phone. We’ll find Eli.”
Julian finally stopped, just for a second, his jaw clenched.
“He better be alive,” Julian said quietly.
Then he kept walking.
“I know you've gone through every possible scenario in your head, but chill.” Anton assured, but only got a glare from Julian.