Chapter 46
Natasha was thrown against the door, pain searing through her shoulder. Billy's panicked screams pierced the air as the limo came to a screeching halt, tilted awkwardly on its side.
Smoke coiled through the cabin, making it hard to see. Natasha blinked, her vision swimming, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Drogen?" she called weakly, her voice trembling.
A low cough answered her, followed by a voice calm yet brimming with cold fury. "I'm here. Stay down, both of you," Drogen commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Billy was shaking uncontrollably, his words tumbling out in a terrified whisper. "We're… we're gonna die, aren't we?" His face was pale, his wide eyes darting around like a trapped animal's.
"Not today," Drogen replied, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His eyes glowed faintly, a deadly promise in their depths. "They just made the worst mistake of their lives."
He extended his hand over Natasha and Billy. With a wave, the pain in her shoulder vanished, the wounds on both of them healing as though they had never been there. But the sudden relief was too much for their battered bodies and minds—they both slumped unconscious.
Drogen glanced down at Natasha's peaceful face, his jaw tightening. His fury churned, dark and relentless. Edward had crossed the line, and there would be no mercy.
Outside the wrecked limo, the men responsible for the crash approached cautiously, their laughter mingling with the crunch of broken glass underfoot. "Check if they're dead," one of them barked, his voice laced with cruel satisfaction.
The first man leaned into the car to inspect the aftermath, but before he could react, Drogen's hand shot out like a viper. His veiny arm coiled around the man's neck with terrifying precision. There was no hesitation, no pause—just the sickening sound of bones snapping as the man's head was ripped clean from his shoulders. Blood sprayed across the wreckage as the lifeless body collapsed.
The second man froze, his breath hitching in sheer terror. "What the hell—" he stammered, but his instincts screamed at him to run.
He barely made it two steps before Drogen materialized in front of him, blocking his escape. The man stumbled backward, falling onto the asphalt, his hands raised in a desperate plea. "Please! Please don't kill me! I was just following orders!"
Drogen's lips curled into a cruel smile, his voice colder than death itself. "Tell that to the devil in hell."
With unrelenting force, his hand plunged into the man's chest, shattering bone as he tore straight to the heart. The man's scream died as quickly as he did, his body crumpling to the ground. Blood dripped from Drogen's hand as he turned to face the others.
Nearby, several grim reapers had appeared, their dark, shadowy forms lingering just beyond the carnage. They moved silently to collect the souls of the fallen.
They hesitated, however, their movements faltering as they felt the weight of Drogen's murderous aura. What he had just done was forbidden—taking the lives of humans outside of soul collection. Yet none dared to confront him, not with the way his eyes burned with unrestrained rage.
Even the disembodied souls of the men trembled in fear, their translucent forms recoiling as they realized Drogen could see them even in death.
"P-please!" one of the souls whimpered, its ghostly voice echoing faintly. "We didn't mean it! Have mercy!"
Drogen stepped forward, his fists clenched so tightly that blood dripped from his palms. His gaze bored into the cowering souls, his fury undiminished.
One of the grim reapers finally summoned enough courage to speak. "Sir… please, it's enough," the reaper said, bowing slightly to show respect yet trembling at the same time.
Drogen's gaze snapped to the reaper, his expression a deadly mix of anger and restraint. For a moment, it seemed he might unleash his wrath on them too. But then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he stepped back.
"Take them," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "But mark my words, if anyone dares to touch what's mine again, there won't be enough of them left for you to collect."
The reapers nodded quickly, dragging the terrified souls away. Even in death, the men screamed as they were pulled into the void, their torment only beginning.
Drogen turned back toward the limo, his rage still simmering beneath the surface. He crouched down, his hand brushing Natasha's cheek gently as she lay unconscious. His touch, so careful and tender, was a stark contrast to the carnage he had just unleashed.
"Edward," he muttered, his voice laced with a promise of vengeance. "You'll pay for this. You'll pay for everything."
Drogen carefully scooped Natasha into his arms, cradling her like she was the most fragile thing in the world. His fierce expression softened as he glanced down at her, unconscious but peaceful, as though shielded from the horrors she had just endured. Without a sound, he vanished, teleporting directly to his apartment.
Once inside, he laid her gently on his bed, pulling the blanket over her. His hand lingered for a moment on her cheek, brushing away a stray strand of hair. His anger still burned, but his priority was her safety.
He straightened, then teleported back to the limo to retrieve Billy. The human was heavier, awkward in his unconscious state, but Drogen managed without a hitch. Returning to the apartment, he placed Billy on the couch with less tenderness, ensuring he was comfortable but wasting no extra effort.
"I've done enough for you," he muttered, glancing briefly at the human before teleporting back to the scene of the accident.
The wrecked limo was still tilted on its side, smoke curling into the night sky. The bodies of the two men lay nearby, lifeless and bloodied. Drogen stood over them, his gaze cold and calculating.
With a flick of his wrist, the bodies floated into the limo's broken shell, slumping like discarded puppets. Drogen stepped back, raising his hand. Fire erupted from his palm, roaring to life as it consumed the wreckage in moments. The flames licked at the night sky, erasing all evidence of what had transpired.
He watched in silence, his face a mask of controlled fury, until the car was fully engulfed. The fire reflected in his eyes, a mirror of his inner rage.
Satisfied that no trace remained, Drogen returned to his apartment. He stepped into the quiet room, glancing at Natasha still sleeping on his bed. His expression softened again, the rage in his chest momentarily subdued.
"Rest," he murmured, brushing a hand over her hair. "You're safe now."
He wasn't going to sleep—not tonight. Not until he had dealt with that son of a bitch who thought he could kill him to hide his secret, but before Drogen was able to leave, Bruce appeared, stopping him by holding his arm.
"Drogen, what's going on with you?"
Hello dear readers, hope you're enjoying my story, this chapter contains violent scenes but I hope you don't mind. It's kinda necessary to add them. Anyway, keep voting for my book guys. Love you all😘