Chapter 204

Chapter 204

Victoria stood before Graham, her chest heaving violently. The gauze on her right hand had completely unraveled, blood dripping from her fingertips onto the ground. Her hair was disheveled, her face smeared with blood and tear tracks, but her eyes were cold—like a blade finally unsheathed.

"His heart was already too weak to take another blow. He won't last much longer."

William had freed himself from the ropes as well, kicking several masked figures aside with just a few swift moves. Without new orders, the masked operatives simply stood frozen in place after being struck down.

William rubbed the red marks on his wrists where the ropes had been, rolled his shoulders, and stood up. He brushed the dust and debris from his coat with unhurried movements. Gone was the fury from when he'd been pinned to the ground—replaced by the calm composure of someone who had everything under control.

Graham lay on the ground, his pupils constricting sharply. Something felt wrong.

His voice came out hoarse and labored, his lips trembling as realization began to dawn—though he couldn't quite believe it. "You were... faking?"

"What else?" Victoria glanced down at him, her tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "You actually thought you could beat us?"

Graham stared at her, his eyes nearly splitting with rage.

Victoria crouched down, meeting his pain-filled, bulging eyes at eye level. Her voice was measured, deliberately giving him clarity before the end.

"I saw through you the second you showed up. Your lips are darker than normal. Your fingernails show early clubbing. Your stride is shorter than it should be—because walking fast makes you short of breath."

"And your eyes—there are scattered hemorrhages in your conjunctiva. That's from increased capillary fragility due to chronic oxygen deprivation. Every time you laugh, you unconsciously press your left chest. You probably don't even notice, but your body is sending distress signals for that failing heart of yours. Graham, you never got another transplant."

"A human body can't survive three major surgeries like that. Lucas was skilled—I'll give him that. He kept you alive with medication, maintaining basic function with what you had. As long as he was alive to provide regular maintenance treatments, you could have lived for years."

"But you were selfish and vicious. You killed the only person who could save you."

Graham's breathing grew more rapid, cold sweat soaking his hair until it plastered against his scalp. He shook his head frantically, trying to deny it, but the suffocating sensation in his chest made speech nearly impossible. His blue-tinged lips opened and closed as he gasped for air, that failing heart making one last futile struggle inside his chest.

"What are you waiting for? Kill them!" Graham screamed at Evan, his voice breaking apart.

But just as Evan's group moved to act, the roar of engines echoed from both ends of the alley. Black armored vehicles poured in from both directions, their mounted floodlights turning the entire alley bright as day. Car doors opened in perfect unison—no fewer than fifty fully armed personnel advancing simultaneously from both ends. Jason's reinforcements had arrived.

"Victoria, we're here!" Jason's voice boomed through a megaphone, full of vigor.

Jason's team swiftly subdued Graham's people with clean, efficient movements. In less than a minute, they had complete control of the scene.

Victoria looked down at the man crawling desperately forward, trying to reach the dagger so he could command the Kaiseraiser Unit again.

Graham's fingertips were barely a hand's width from the blade. His fingers scraped the ground until they bled, leaving a long trail of dark red. Just as he was about to grasp it, Victoria lifted her foot and kicked it farther away.

The dagger spun across the floor with a sharp metallic scrape.

The members of the Kaiseraiser Unit stood like soulless statues, completely motionless.

The Kaiseraiser Unit was a perfect killing machine—but their fatal flaw was absolute obedience. They were machines that needed commands to function.

Victoria watched Graham writhe in agony on the ground, her eyes devoid of pity. Only a heavy, long-overdue sense of closure remained.

She spoke silently in her heart: 'Camila, I finally avenged you. Everyone who hurt you has paid dearly.'

She turned away from Graham and bent down to pick up the three daggers. Under the harsh floodlights, they gleamed with cold light. The wolf, eagle, and tiger engravings seemed to come alive—three pairs of predatory eyes coldly observing everyone present, witnessing the end of a decade-long vendetta.

She walked to William's side and handed him the daggers. "Here. Returning them to their rightful owner."

William took the daggers, looking at the twelve motionless masked figures. The night wind lifted the hem of his coat and tousled his hair. His face still bore dried blood and bruises, but he stood tall as a pine, his gaze steady as a mountain. He raised the three daggers high.

"I am William, son of Quentin. These three daggers are now in my hands. According to the rules of the Kaiseraiser Unit, when the three blades are united, the bearer becomes master of the legion. I command you—from this day forward, you answer to me."

The alley fell silent for a long moment.

The wind stilled. Even the leaves stopped rustling. The entire alley sank into an almost sacred quiet. The vehicle lights reflected off the masks with a cold metallic sheen—twelve statues standing perfectly still.

Just when everyone thought there would be no response, they dropped to one knee in perfect unison, right hands pressed to their left chests, heads bowed in submission to William. Twelve movements executed as one, the sound of knees hitting ground echoing through the alley—solemn and profound.

"Yes, Master."

William tucked the three daggers inside his coat and turned to Victoria.

He said nothing—simply reached out and took her uninjured left hand in his, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

Victoria looked up at him, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. Then the two of them walked side by side toward the alley's exit.

Behind them, Jason and Frank were methodically organizing the cleanup. Bodies were carried away one by one, crime scene tape went up, evidence was numbered and bagged.

Jason turned and caught sight of their silhouettes walking side by side through the vehicle lights. He clicked his tongue knowingly.

Frank rubbed the red marks on his wrists and rolled his eyes. "After all those times going at it online, we finally meet face to face. Looking forward to working with you, rival."

"Same." Jason clapped him on the shoulder, and the two men shared a smile in the alley as dawn began to break.

When Victoria emerged from the alley, she looked up at the night sky. The clouds had parted at some point, revealing the rising sun. A faint glow of dawn tinged the horizon. Night was retreating bit by bit—daybreak was near.

As they walked farther away, the lingering scent of gunpowder and blood was gradually swept clean by the first fresh breeze of morning.

William held her hand tightly, then suddenly stopped. He turned to face her, his expression serious to the point of tension. His Adam's apple bobbed as though he were making a monumentally important decision.

"Honey, can we have a proper wedding ceremony?"

His palm was sweating nervously after he spoke, and his grip on Victoria's hand unconsciously tightened.

They both knew what that question meant. Victoria's revenge was complete. It was time to make a choice—stay or go.

She had married him to leverage the Howard family's power for revenge. Now that score was settled. She had no obligation to remain at his side—unless she wanted to.

Victoria looked at him—so nervous he'd forgotten to breathe—at the bruises and bloodstains still marking his face, at the careful, hopeful fear of rejection in his eyes. She suddenly found him rather endearing.

"Okay."

"Really?!"

William's joy was childlike. He swept Victoria up and spun her around several times.

Victoria felt dizzy from the spinning and patted his shoulder, asking him to put her down—but he wasn't listening at all. He kept spinning her in circles on the empty street, his coat billowing in the morning wind, his laughter carrying far across the quiet city.

The sky had brightened. Dawn painted half the sky, bathing the entire street in warm amber-gold light. Their shadows stretched long and long in the morning light, overlapping together—impossible to separate.