Jack sat alone in the dimly lit study. In his hands were a few of the gemstones he had acquired from Langston. He spinned them one by one in his hands looking out the window. There was a rapid storm.
His thoughts were a storm of their own, swirling faster than he could process. The events of the past few days felt like an avalanche, too many things changing too quickly.
The success of the gemstone gamble still clung to his memory like a sweet aftertaste, but it had been marred by the brutal theft, the relentless pursuit by Neville, trying his hand at business with Aaron, his knowledge of electronics and software programming and now the shadow of something far darker looming on the horizon.
Jack couldn't shake the feeling that the world around him was shifting in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. His business acumen, slowly growing through the fragmented insights from his mother's memory ball, was pushing him forward. He had a plan—no, several plans—but they all felt like fragile threads in the face of the massive storm coming for him.
He had grown tired of running, of hiding. The attack in his own home, the threat from Neville, and the incessant feeling that someone, something, was always watching—Jack was done with all of it. There had to be a way to take control. There had to be a way to strike back.
But how?
As Jack stared at the papers strewn across his desk—business plans, formulas, notes from his mother's memory ball—he could almost feel the weight of the unseen eyes upon him, could almost hear Neville's mocking voice. But this time, something was different. The memories were no longer fragments. The lessons from his mother and father, the knowledge of both the world of business and martial arts, were beginning to crystallize. And with it, a newfound clarity of purpose.
A knock on the door snapped Jack out of his thoughts.
"Enter," he called.
Victor walked in, his expression unreadable, but Jack could see the weariness in his eyes. He was a loyal guard, but Jack knew that even Victor was starting to feel the weight of the constant tension. The mansion was no longer a place of safety; it was a cage.
"I've got news," Victor said, his voice low. "We've located someone who can help us deal with Neville. But it's... risky. And the people involved, they don't come cheap."
Jack leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "I'm listening."
Victor pulled up a chair and sat across from him, lowering his voice further. "There's a man named Arvid Kross—he's a fixer, someone who handles situations like ours. But he's got a reputation for being ruthless. Some say he's untouchable, but it'll cost a lot of money, and I mean a lot. More than what you made from the jade."
Jack's mind raced. Arvid Kross. The name sent chills down his spine. The man had a reputation for getting things done, no matter how dirty the job. Some whispered he had connections in every corner of the city—criminals, politicians, businessmen. He was someone who could make things happen, even things that were impossible.
But Jack didn't care about the cost. He wasn't afraid anymore. His newfound resolve burned brighter than ever. He had spent too long being the victim. It was time to start playing the game. But there was more at stake now—more than just revenge against Neville. This was about carving out a future for himself, one where he wasn't just reacting to the whims of the world around him.
"How do we contact him?" Jack asked, his voice cold with determination.
Victor hesitated. "He's not someone you just call up. You'll need to go through his people, and even then, there's no guarantee he'll agree to take on your case. But I've managed to track down one of his associates. We can make a move tomorrow."
Jack stood, his resolve firm. "Then we make a move tomorrow. I don't care what it costs."
Victor studied him for a moment, his eyes searching Jack's face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. Jack was determined. The pieces were beginning to fall into place.
"I'll arrange everything," Victor said finally, standing up. "But be prepared. If we go through with this, there's no turning back. Kross operates in ways you won't understand. The people he works with... they'll do anything."
"I understand," Jack replied. "And I'm ready."
As Victor left the room to make preparations, Jack sat back down at the desk. His fingers hovered over the papers in front of him. His business plans, his martial arts training—it was all coming together. Slowly, but surely, Jack was building a foundation. It was a foundation of power. And the moment he allowed it to take shape, it would give him everything he needed.
The storm outside continued, relentless in its fury. But Jack no longer felt the cold shiver of fear. He welcomed the storm. The storm was the catalyst. The storm was the proving ground. And Jack—he was ready to rise.
End of Chapter 10