Chapter 122: A New Man's Wrath
Peter and Chris fought back-to-back, the warehouse a blur of motion. A thug swung a pipe at Peter’s head; he ducked, driving his elbow into the man’s gut, sending him sprawling. Chris grappled another, twisting his arm until a knife clattered free. The remaining four circled, weapons gleaming, Kane’s laugh echoing like a war drum. Peter’s knuckles bled, but his focus was iron—Sharon was waiting, and no one would stop him.
\---
Addicus jolted awake, his metamorphosis complete. The fever was gone, replaced by clarity, a cold certainty of who he was. He stumbled to the bathroom, splashing water on his face, the mirror reflecting only himself—no Samantha, no ghost. Relief flooded him, light as air. He’d shed her shadow, embraced his nature: a man who bent the world to his will.
“Will!” he called, voice strong.
Will rushed in, eyes wide. “Sir? You’re awake?”
“How long was I out?” Addicus asked, toweling off.
“Days, sir. The doctor said it wasn’t medical. What happened?”
Addicus smirked. “I’m a new man. Get the car ready—business to handle.”
“Right away,” Will said, hurrying out.
Addicus paused at a family portrait, his father’s stern face staring back. “You’d be proud,” he murmured, then showered, the hot spray washing away the last of his weakness. Dressed in a sharp gray suit, he felt invincible, ready to crush anyone in his path. “Car’s ready, sir,” Will said, meeting him in the hall.
“Wait by the drive,” Addicus said. “I’ve got a stop first.”
He descended to the mansion’s tunnels, the air cool and damp, the faint hum of a generator echoing. Sharon’s door loomed, unguarded. He entered without knocking—why should he? She was his.
Sharon sat on the bed, her eyes flashing hate. “What do you want? Another round?”
“Not now,” Addicus said, circling her. “Just checking on you.”
“How kind,” she spat, sarcasm dripping.
“You didn’t miss me?” he taunted. “Martha must’ve told you I was sick.”
“I wished you’d died,” Sharon said, unflinching. “The world would thank me.”
Addicus’s smile tightened. “I don’t like that tone. You’re bolder than last time—calmer then, silent.”
“Let’s just say you’ll get what’s coming,” she said, a spark in her eyes. “That makes me happy.”
He lunged, grabbing her throat, his grip firm but controlled. “Tonight, I’ll make you happier. That’s a promise.”
Sharon didn’t flinch, her defiance a blade. Addicus released her, stepping back, his mind already elsewhere—business, power, control. But as he turned to leave, a faint sound stopped him: a whisper from the tunnels, like footsteps retreating. Someone was listening, and Addicus’s instincts screamed of betrayal.