Elena watched in horror as Damon's eyes burned a vivid red, the veins in his neck pulsing as if they might burst.
His face was set, a mask of fury, with a look that could kill. It was the look of a man possessed, a man on the brink of unleashing all the darkness within.
She opened her mouth to speak, desperate to calm him down, to say anything that might pull him back from the edge. But fear held her silent, her words tangled in her throat.
The room seemed to vibrate with the force of his anger. She watched, paralyzed, as he stood up, his movements sharp and dangerous, and stormed out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, without a single word. Each step he took seemed to shake the walls.
Minutes later, Damon arrived at the dock, where police lights flashed in the night. Officers swarmed the scene, and Zach's lifeless body was being lifted onto a stretcher, ready to be taken away.
Damon's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened as he fought to control the raging storm inside him. His breath came in heavy, uneven bursts, his chest heaving as if it might explode. All he could see was red.
With a shaking hand, he pulled out his phone. "Bring Mr. Lee to me, NOW!" His voice was low but laced with menace, each word like the final toll of a funeral bell.
As he turned to leave, a familiar voice cut through the air. "If it ain't Damon Moon," Rico's voice was filled with mockery as he twirled a pair of handcuffs in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.
Damon barely glanced in his direction, too consumed by his rage to entertain even his old rival. Without a word, he brushed past Rico, who blinked in confusion, taken aback by Damon's disregard.
Normally, they would have exchanged heated words, perhaps even fists. But tonight, Damon had no time for petty rivalries. Rico stood there, dumbfounded, as Damon disappeared into the shadows.
The hunt for Mr. Lee began that very moment, Damon's men scouring every possible hideout, every contact. It didn't take long before they found him attempting to flee the city with his family.
At the Black Serpent Mafia's hideout.
Mr. Lee hung upside down from a metal pole, his face battered, fresh wounds oozing blood onto the cold concrete floor. His wife and teenage children stood nearby, forced to watch, horror etched into their pale faces.
"Please, Mr. Damon, spare me and my family," Mr. Lee begged, his voice shaking as he dangled helplessly.
"Spare you?" Damon sneered, his voice a low growl as he walked closer, his eyes a deadly glint. "How dare you double-cross me?" Each word was a knife, slicing through the air, cutting deeper than any weapon.
Mr. Lee swallowed hard, a tremor running through his battered body. He knew Damon well enough to understand that his chances of survival were slim.
"Mr. Moon, please, just hear me out—"
"Hear you out?" Damon laughed, a cold, heartless sound. "I'm pretty sure Zach asked the same thing before you had him killed."
"No… it wasn't me!" Mr. Lee stammered, his eyes wide with desperation.
"Oh, it wasn't you?" Damon's voice dripped with sarcasm as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black handgun. He aimed it at Mr. Lee's head, then shifted his aim slightly, firing a shot that struck Mr. Lee's ear. A piece of flesh fell to the floor, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.
Mr. Lee's wife and children wailed, begging Damon to show mercy. But Damon's face was impassive, his rage consuming any trace of compassion.
"I'm going to ask you once. Who did it?" Damon demanded, his voice low and deadly.
Mr. Lee's face contorted with pain as he fought to stay conscious, blood dripping from his ear. He could barely breathe, his mind clouded by agony. Before he could respond, his body gave in, and he passed out, hanging limply.
"Wake him up," Damon ordered coldly.
Two of Damon's men untied Mr. Lee and dunked his head into a nearby tub filled with ice water. The shock jolted him awake, his screams muffled as he struggled against the freezing cold. When they pulled him back out, he was barely conscious, his body wracked with shivers.
Damon's expression remained unmoved. "Now, tell me. Who was it?"
Mr. Lee gasped, blinking through the pain. "Gregory… Gregory Alan," he managed to choke out, his voice barely audible.
Damon's eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. Gregory Alan—a name he'd heard before, always whispered in the shadows, always connected to trouble.
Mr. Lee's pleas grew desperate as he saw Damon's dark gaze fix on him. "Please, Mr. Moon, spare me. I told you what you wanted to know."
Damon's lips twisted into a cold smile, one that held no mercy. "Spare you?" he repeated, laughing softly, a sound laced with bitterness. "Zach is dead, and you want me to spare you?"
He strode over to where Mr. Lee's family stood huddled together, their faces streaked with tears.
Without warning, he grabbed Mr. Lee's teenage son by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His other hand held the gun pressed to the boy's temple.
"No!" Rachel, Mr. Lee's wife, fell to her knees, clutching Damon's legs, her voice choked with sobs. "Please, don't hurt my son. I'm begging you."
The boy struggled in Damon's iron grip, his eyes wild with terror as he clawed at Damon's hand. But Damon's strength was overwhelming, and slowly, the boy's frantic movements slowed, his eyelids fluttering as he began to lose consciousness.
Just before the boy's body went limp, Damon released him, letting him drop to the ground like discarded trash. Mr. Lee let out a strangled cry as he watched his son collapse, gasping for breath, barely conscious.
"Please," Mr. Lee choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "Take me instead. Do whatever you want to me, but spare my family."
Damon's gaze bore into him, cold and unfeeling. "Your family?" he sneered. "You had no mercy when you betrayed me, when you signed Zach's death warrant. Why should I show mercy now?"
He stepped closer, towering over the broken man who had once been his ally, his voice a chilling whisper. "You made your choice, Mr. Lee. And now, you'll live—or die—with the consequences."
Mr. Lee's family huddled together, their terrified eyes fixed on Damon as he turned his back on them, motioning for his men to clean up the mess.
Damon walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall. But in his heart, he knew this was only the beginning. Gregory Alan would be next.