"Your Eminence," Devina Storm was the first to break the silence. She twirled the champagne glass in her hand, her smile smooth as silk. "You look like you haven't aged a day. More grace to your honor."
If there was one thing I had learned about this woman, it was that she was a sly bastard. The kind who could smile while plotting your downfall. I half-wondered what game she was playing today.
Granny didn't even spare her a glance. Her face remained as cold as ever, like she hadn't heard a thing.
Honestly, I had never seen Granny show any real emotions. The woman needed a boyfriend. Or a puppy. Something.
"Let's get this over with," Granny said, her tone leaving no room for nonsense. "I'll get straight to the point. We have too much power, too much influence. And when that happens, those in control start looking for ways to put us in chains. My son is their scapegoat—an excuse to tighten the leash around us.
"You all aren't dumb. At least, most of you." She gave a slow look around the room. "So tell me—do we fight back, or do we kiss asses?"
The last two words made half the room flinch.
If the Storms had one thing in common, it was pride. As much as we were assholes to each other, the idea of anyone outside the clan dragging a Storm through the mud was unacceptable.
So yes, we were a strange family. We traded insults like currency, carried on feuds that outlived our ancestors, and some of us probably plotted each other's downfall in our spare time. But we lived by one absolute rule:
Nobody but a Storm can bully a Storm.
"The guts!" Kairo Storm slammed his fist on the table, his voice shaking the room. And just like that, the entire hall erupted.
Men tossed their pipes aside, their conversations now sharp and furious. The women weren't any better—faces twisted with anger as they joined in.
Storms hated being controlled. It was in our blood. The mere thought of suppression was enough to make us sick.
But before the room could descend into chaos, Granny's voice boomed through the air.
"Quiet."
Silence. Immediate. But the tension didn't leave. Most of them were still red-faced, fists clenched.
"Your Eminence," Ryker Storm called, exhaling thick smoke from his cigar. The man was the most bearded relative I had in my vast collection of questionable uncles. "We all know where we stand. Honestly, there was no need for an assembly. So tell me—what makes you so cautious this time?"
Granny crossed her legs with practiced elegance, resting her chin on one hand as she studied him. "Interesting," she said with a faint smile. "And what makes you think I'm cautious?"
"If I'm being honest, Your Eminence," Ryker replied, taking another slow puff. "You never ask for permission when you want something done. Frankly, it's not a stretch to say you see most of us as... unnecessary."
Lily Storm scoffed. "Shut up, idiot. Stop assuming your thoughts reflect the rest of us. Unlike you, I actually know my worth."
Ryker snorted. "Oh yeah? And what is that? Staring in the mirror all day?"
The men at the table roared with laughter. Lily's face twisted in fury, her knuckles turning white.
"Aunt, ignore him," Chioma cut in with a smirk. "It's not like his wife is prettier than you. He's just bitter."
"You brat," Ryker muttered. "I thought you were on my side."
"The sisterhood comes first."
"I call bullshit."
"That's enough," Granny snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. Her gaze sharpened. Final warning.
Silence returned, thick and heavy.
"You're not entirely wrong," Granny admitted, her expression unreadable. "Most of you carry our name, but you are useless to me. Don't take it personally. I've simply been conditioned to act alone."
Then, with a confidence that sent a shiver down my spine, she leaned back and added, "Besides, I am the boss. I don't need your shitty permission."
Unease settled over the table. But no one dared refute her.
Granny wasn't just the head of the Storms. She was the law. Her word was absolute.
I, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Granny, your aura was so OP," I whispered, leaning close. "Do you think I can be like that too? I mean, I have your genes, right?"
Granny gave me a long, tired look. Then, ignoring me entirely, she turned back to the others.
"Whatever war this leads to is not your typical war. We can resist one or two threats, but against an organized horde, we may not survive."
A heavy weight settled over the room. I could see it sinking in—the realization that none of us even knew what kind of war we were walking into.
To us, war had always been an easy word. We fought. We won. It was as simple as breathing.
But if Granny thought this one could bring the Storms down...
"How many nations are against us?" Raven Storm asked, her teeth clenched.
Granny met her gaze. Then, with an unsettling calm, she said—
"I don't know."
The entire hall went still.
"Your Eminence," Dad called, one eyebrow arched. "Please enlighten us."
I rolled my eyes. Seriously, why couldn't he just call Granny Mum like a normal son? Or Momsie? Did saying Mummy make him shy? The formal act was getting on my nerves.
Granny barely acknowledged him. Her voice remained cold, sharp, and straight to the point. "The nations pressuring us to relinquish our territories are plenty. But Canada, Australia, Turkey, Indonesia, Iran, and Saudi Arabia stick out like a sore thumb. This is happening too systematically for it to be a coincidence. And their so-called 'promised benefits' all being identical? That only makes it more obvious. Someone is—"
"Pushing it," I cut in with a frown. This whole thing was getting on my last nerve.
Granny flicked me a glance but didn't argue. "I suspect some of the global superpowers are involved—funding these countries to pressure us. That's where they get their guts from, because no nation in its right mind would dare challenge the Storms alone. So you see my dilemma. I'm fighting an enemy I can't see. A coward. And cowards are the worst—because they fester like cockroaches unless you rip them out from the roots."
"This is messy," Calista Storm muttered, shaking her head.
"And we haven't even factored in the idiot who framed my brother," Uncle Mike added, rubbing his forehead like he had a migraine. "Why is this so damn complicated?"
It was only now that I noticed Uncle Mike for the first time since the meeting started. This man had an elite gift: he was invisible. My presence, on the other hand, was overwhelming, so his ability filled me with boiling envy. Imagine being able to disappear whenever you wanted? Must be nice.
But more importantly, the energy in the room had shifted. The once fiery Storms were now murmuring in low voices, glancing at each other like a storm cloud had just rolled over their heads.
Honestly? Their reaction made sense. The most terrifying enemy isn't the one standing in front of you—it's the one lurking in the dark.
Otherwise known as the Unknown.
And the Unknown? Oh, it was a master at breaking people. Even the strongest could be reduced to pawns, played with and discarded like nothing. A hierarchical injustice.
And worst of all—fear? Fear was a form of submission. And just thinking about that made my blood boil.
Unknown or not, I didn't care. If something irritated me, I destroyed it. And this hidden force had just shot to the top of my most wanted list.
But watching these supposed 'Storms' trying not to freak out? That was even more irritating.
I shot to my feet and slammed my hands on the table, the loud BANG silencing every single voice in the room.
"Listen up, losers!" I snapped, glaring at every sorry excuse for a Storm in here. "I am a Storm, not a coward like the rest of you! I am too arrogant to be afraid of some faceless rat too spineless to expose itself! So get off your high horses and change your diapers, fools! If you're a Storm, then act like one! Stop embarrassing your ancestors with this tear-dripping display. Stop embarrassing me!"
The silence that followed was heavy. The air was thick with tension.
Not my problem.
Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode toward the exit.
No one tried to stop me. Not that they could if they wanted to.
The moment I stepped outside the Dome, my personal escorts and entourage immediately surrounded me, their movements seamless as they fell into formation. Without breaking stride, I continued toward my private jet.
As I walked, I pulled off my dark shades and tossed them to Mr. Adams. A brunette lady at my side smoothly removed my trench coat as we reached the aircraft stairs.
Once inside the jet, I made a beeline for the built-in screen monitor on the cabin wall. Settling onto the plush leather couch, I connected a group call.
The screen lit up. Four faces appeared in separate sections.
Luke looked like he had just stepped out of the shower—dressed in a white top, hair dripping wet, lounging on a sofa like he owned the universe.
Obinna? Yawning way too wide. Not classy, dude.
Matthew… what in the fresh hell was he wearing? Was that a balloon cardigan? Oh. Right. He had been ranting about going to Antarctica. I tuned him out then, and I was definitely tuning him out now.
And Aisha? Well, she was mumbling incoherently while struggling to keep her eyes open. Talking to her would be a nightmare.
Luke raised a brow. "Honey, you don't look too good. Did your clan meeting end in a dumpster fire?"
Obinna smirked. "Oi, isn't this her normal face? Our little princess is always annoyed."
Matthew nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm, true. But this is her really annoyed face. That's a whole different level."
Aisha: "Mtchee… Mtchee… uggghhh…" (Proceeds to start snoring.)
I rolled my eyes. "Guys, we're hunting down whoever whooped my dad's ass."
Luke's eyebrow shot up. "I thought your Granny was handling that? And since when did you—the certified lazy bum—start caring?"
Obinna leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "You're not sick, are you? That would explain this interaction."
Matthew crossed his arms. "What makes you think we can do anything when even your Granny has no leads? Such confidence in us is great and all, but coming from you? Yeah, that's unsettling."
Aisha: (Snores louder.)
I exhaled sharply. "I'm not asking for your permission. Granny has enough on her plate. If I can take down whatever hold this unknown variable has on us, I will."
Obinna: "Unknown what now?"
I ignored him. "School starts tomorrow. We'll talk after class. That's when the investigation begins."
Luke's voice turned sharp. "Hey, who agreed to—"
I ended the call.
Leaning back, I gazed out the window. Below me, clouds stretched endlessly, an ocean of white and blue. A beautiful sight.
But beauty wasn't on my mind.
This wasn't just about my dad anymore.
This was personal.
"Game on, suckers."