Chapter 97 RAGE RELIEF
The plaza was buzzing with life. Bright lights blinked over different shops. Music spilled from open doors. The smell of fried food mixed with perfume and dust. People moved around freely; families laughing, vendors shouting prices and inviting customers, couples walking side by side. It looked like any normal marketplace. Loud, busy, and ordinary.
No one would ever guess what existed beneath it.
Anton stepped out of the car and walked through the crowd with a dangerous calm. The kind of calm that came after something inside had already snapped off.
No one paid him attention.
To them, he was just another well-dressed man walking through the plaza.
He entered one of the ground floor spaces, a storage room behind a small gadget store.
Inside, shelves were stacked with boxes.
The noise from outside faded as Anton closed the door behind him.
He walked straight to the far wall and pressed his palm against a hidden spot, there's a soft mechanical click before the wall shifted and a door slid open, behind it was a private elevator. Cold steel walls with no sound. Anton stepped inside and the door closed.
The elevator moved down…
When it opened, the world changed.
The underground den stretched wide beneath the plaza.
Polished concrete floors, dark walls, cold lighting, cameras watching from every corner, armed men everywhere.
The moment Anton stepped out, the atmosphere shifted. Movement rippled through the hall. Men lined up instantly, forming two long lines on both sides.
Heads bowed.
“Boss.”
Anton didn’t slow down. His steps echoed against the floor as he walked through them, his presence alone enough to silence the entire space.
One of the men stepped forward.
“Boss.”
“Take me to him,” Anton said.
“Yes, boss.”
The man led the way. They walked through a series of corridors, turned corners, passed closed doors… until they reached one at the far end.
The guard opened it.
Anton stepped inside.
The room was dim, cold, and empty except for one figure on the floor.
Desmond.
Chained and blindfolded. Sitting against the wall.
Anton stopped in front of him. For a second, he just looked at him… then he spoke.
“Free him.”
The guard stepped forward immediately, unlocked the chains and removed the blindfold.
Desmond blinked hard, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.
Then he looked up and froze as his eyes met Anton’s.
Recognition, shock, anger… all flashed through his face.
“You—”
“You pressed charges,” Anton cut him off, his voice too calm for the anger raging through him. He let out a low laugh. “What are you hoping to achieve?”
Desmond pushed himself to his feet slowly.
“You think you can put Julian in jail?” Anton continued, tilting his head slightly. “Look at your face. All bruised up. You couldn’t even wait to heal before running around like a dog, looking for who to support you to bring Julian down.”
Desmond clenched his jaw.
“You even went to Mr. Devon.”
Desmond scoffed.
“So what? You think dragging me here will make me drop the charges? Crazy Julian sent you to threaten me?”
Anton smirked. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he said. “I’m not threatening you.”
He turned slightly, walked to the corner of the room, and picked up a baseball bat. His fingers wrapped around it loosely.
“I’m about to give you a solid case.”
Desmond’s expression shifted slightly.
Then Anton walked back toward him, with slow measured steps.
“If you think Julian is crazy…” Anton said quietly, stopping right in front of him, “…then you haven’t met me properly.”
Before Desmond could react, Anton swung rhe bat and hit his stomach.
Hard.
A dull, sickening sound filled the room.
Desmond doubled over with a sharp gasp.
His hands flew to his stomach.
Anton grabbed his collar as he bent forward.
Desmond tried to grab him back, and Anton slapped his hand away.
“You spent so much time social climbing,” Anton said, his voice dropping, “you forgot to learn how to fight.”
Desmond pushed him, hard, but Anton didn’t move. Not even an inch.
He looked down at him, unimpressed.
“Hit me,” Anton said.
Desmond hesitated.
“Come on,” Anton added, tilting his head. “Should I hand you the bat? Or are your hands useless too?”
Desmond swung his fist, weak and uncoordinated.
Anton dodged easily. Then swung the bat again, hitting Desmond's knee, hard.
Desmond dropped instantly. A cry tearing from his throat as he hit the ground.
“Bastard, get up!” Anton barked.
He grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up again.
“Stand still, you fucking idiot.”
The bat slammed into his stomach again.
Desmond gasped. Air knocked out of him.
Anton leaned closer.
“See how generous I am?” he said quietly. “I’m giving you a proper reason to press charges.”
Another hit.
Desmond coughed.
Blood spilling from his mouth.
“God, you disgust me,” Anton muttered.
He dropped the bat. Let it clatter to the floor.
Then he stepped forward, and punched him in the face, hard.
Desmond’s head snapped to the side.
Another punch.
And another.
Anton didn’t stop.
His fists moved fast, precise, violent…
Desmond staggered.
Anton kicked his legs out.
He fell, hitting the floor hard enough to feel his shoulder shift out of position.
Anton followed him down, kicking and punching with no rhythm or restraint.
“You think you can touch Julian?” Anton growled.
A kick to his stomach.
“You think you’re on his level?”
Another punch.
“He has me.”
A kick.
“You can’t do shit to him.”
Punch.
“You and those old fools you run after—”
Kick.
“—can’t do anything to Julian.”
He grabbed Desmond by the collar again, forcing his head up.
“Do you hear me?!”
Desmond coughed, blood dripping from his lips.
“I hear you…” he choked out. “I can’t do anything to Julian.”
Anton’s grip tightened. “Say it again.”
Desmond swallowed, pain flickering across his face. “I can’t do anything to Julian.”
Anton held his gaze for a second… then let go.
“Good,” he said. “You haven’t climbed high enough to act the way you do.”
He stood up, turned, and tarted walking toward the door… then he stopped as his eyes fell on the baseball bat. He stared at it for a second… then bent down and picked it up again.
“On second thought…” he muttered, and turned back.
Desmond’s eyes widened slightly.
“I’m going to send you to the hospital,” Anton said. “You need rest from all those foolish games you've been playing.”
Desmond shook his head weakly.
“Wait—”
Anton didn’t listen.
The bat came down again, and again, and again. Each hit heavier and more brutal than the last. Skin split, blood spread.
Desmond’s body went limp, barely reacting anymore, but Anton kept going… until even the sound changed, until there was nothing left to prove.
Finally, he gave the last hit and the bat broke. He stopped, and dropped the bat. It hit the floor with a dull sound.
Anton looked down at him, expression blank.
“Lucky bastard,” he muttered. “When you get out, go press charges against me.”
Then he turned, and walked out. Leaving Desmond on the floor with broken ribs, and dragged breathing.
Anton stepped into the hallway where his men were waiting silently.
He spoke without stopping his steps.
“Leave him,” he said. “Let him sit there and mourn his ego till nightfall.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Then take him to a hospital in the outskirts,” Anton continued. “Dump him there.”
The men nodded.
“Let his luck decide how long he lays helpless before he's seen and taken inside.”
“Yes, boss.”
Anton didn’t look back, he just kept walking, the cold calm still sitting on his face. But beneath it, there's deep anxiety and fear born from seeing Eli and Julian laying lifelessly.