Alexander pov
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three shots. Three bodies.
Screams echoed, piercing through the air as three of my men crumpled to the ground with loud thuds, bullets lodged deep in the centers of their heads, their eyes wide open in horror.
They didn't expect it—none of them did. But today, I wasn't in the mood to take any pleasure in their fear. Instead, I reloaded my gun and aimed it at the men and women cowering before me, their hands raised above their heads like shields to block the bullets.
"You have five seconds to tell me where the hell my son is. And with every second that ticks by," I said, my voice icy and emotionless as I casually aimed at the ten people before me, "one of you will die."
My jaw tightened as none of them answered. Their pitiful cries irritated me, igniting a fierce urge to gun them all down right then and there. But I fought to maintain control, forcing myself to breathe through the rage.
I was on a route to Russia for a critical business meeting—one that promised to elevate my wealth and power, pushing me past that bastard and securing my dominance. I had intended to take my five-year-old son, Felix, with me, but he refused to leave. Reluctantly, I left him in the care of some of the trained guards and nannies but it wasn't long before I received the devastating news: my son had been kidnapped by one of those very nannies.
Damnit.
I tilted my head to the side and randomly shot one of them in the head. This time, it was a woman—she had been crying too loudly, and I needed her to stop that pathetic noise. And she did. She fell with a thud, her cries silenced forever.
"Another five seconds start now. Where is my son?" I asked, my voice hoarse and raspy, despite the fact that I was struggling to control my anger. This was me controlling myself—interrogating in a 'nice' way while Sebastian tracked down the nanny who took my son.
But it had already been two hours, and my anger was about to erupt like a damn volcano. If anything happened to my son, these people would pay with their lives.
"P-please, boss, please spare us. We don't know where he is, we really know nothing about this…" One of them—a man—began to plead. I turned my attention to him, watching him squirm under my gaze, but I only tilted my head, my expression blank as I aimed my gun at him.
I admired his courage, but that wasn't the answer to my question. With a finger pressed against the trigger, another shot rang out, adding to the sixth body that now lay on the ground.
"Another five—" I cut myself off as my eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, a surge of killing intent flashing through me. I turned back to the trembling figures before me, a cold smile curling at the corner of my lips. "What am I even saying? You're all going to die."
It had already been three hours.
I tightened my grip on the gun as their cries grew louder, but I didn't flinch. I aimed, ready to finish off the remaining people. Just in time—like a last-minute saving grace—the call I'd been waiting for from Sebastian came through.
I pulled the phone from my pocket, answered, and listened in silence. My frown deepened before I cut the call. Without a word, I tossed the gun to one of the men behind me, then turned and walked out of the mansion toward the car.
"Clean up the mess inside," I ordered coldly. "And take me to Clearbrook Medical Center. Now."
"Yes, boss," the driver said, starting the car. Adrian turned to me, his expression unreadable—just the way I had trained them. Emotions were a weakness, and my men were taught to suppress them, to never let them show.
"What should we do with the remaining survivors, boss?" he asked.
"Keep them alive for now," I replied, my fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. "If Felix has so much as a scratch, kill them all."
The ride to the hospital was steeped in agonizing silence, but I didn't mind—I preferred silence. It allowed me to think, to plan. Yet this time, it was pure torture. My heart pounded relentlessly, though my expression remained unreadable, as always.
A year ago, my wife and son were in a car accident that took her life. She shielded Felix, sacrificing herself to save him. After that day, my son became a different person—silent, distant, and unreachable. Not even I, his father, could break through his walls. I kept her death a secret from the world, pretending she was living abroad to protect Felix. The truth would've crushed him, and I couldn't let that happen. He still believes his mother is out there, somewhere.
The man responsible for that crash was my greatest rival—the only one who could match me in power—Nico Vance. And now, that same bastard had kidnapped my son to stop me from making it to Russia today.
I had wanted revenge against him, but that bastard was too well-protected, impossible to take down without the perfect opportunity. But this time—if anything happened to my son—I would end him, no matter the cost. Even if it meant following him to the grave right after.
"Boss, we're here," Adrian's voice snapped me out of my daze. I cast a cold glance at the hospital before stepping out of the car, Adrian trailing closely behind.
Eyes followed me as I strode toward the reception desk, their curious glances brushing off me like dust. I stood in silence while Adrian spoke to the receptionist, who kept sneaking glances in my direction, her expression a mix of curiosity and fear.
"Room 23," Adrian said, falling into step beside me as we made our way down the hall.
As we approached, I froze, my brow arching at the scene before me. I had braced myself for many possibilities when Sebastian informed me that Felix was in the hospital and unharmed—but this wasn't one of them. Several nurses struggled to restrain him as he thrashed and cried, his small fists flying in every direction.
I took a moment to observe, a proud smirk tugging at my lips as Felix managed to land a solid punch on one of the male nurses. Impressive. That was my son.
"B-boss," Sebastian sighed in relief when he saw me, quickly rushing over and holding his broken glasses in his hand. "You need to talk to Master Felix. He won't listen to anyone. He's been like this since they brought him with the lady."
"Which lady?" I asked, raising a brow in confusion.
"From the information I gathered, she saved Master Felix. She blocked a truck with her car. She's in critical condition and undergoing surgery, but Master Felix refuses to leave her side."
A frown tugged at my lips as I walked toward the crying child. I gently held him still and turned him toward me. He struggled to break free, but he couldn't. When he finally saw me, his crying only intensified as he clung to my shirt, pulling me toward the door of the operating room
"P-please save Mommy," he begged, and my eyes widened in shock. Not because he called that woman his mother, but because—
Did he just speak?