Chapter 5
The world seemed to slow as Noah squeezed the trigger.
With a speed that defied human ability, a figure moved. Damian, his face obscured by the kidnappers scarf pulled up like a makeshift hood, executed a swift, impossible leap. His hand shot out, not to deflect the barrel, but to trap the mouth of the gun just as the firing pin struck.
A deafening CRACK echoed through the air. The kinetic impact hit his palm, the bullet contained and crushed, failing to leave even a scratch on his skin.
Damian smoothly pulled the now-useless weapon from Noah's stunned grip. A slow, chilling smirk stretched across the only visible part of his face—his mouth.
"Ohh… that was almost traumatizing," he drawled, his voice laced with mocking sarcasm.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Noah didn't just stumble; he recoiled violently, leaping backward several feet as if struck by an electrical current.
"Wha… wha… wha… what the hell? What the hell was that?" Noah stammered, his face a mask of visible, raw terror.
The fear was contagious. "Did he just block a bullet without bleeding?" the second man whispered to his comrade, his voice cracking with disbelief.
The last guy found his voice, albeit a shaky one. "Who are you?"
Damian paused, tossing the destroyed gun aside with a casual flick of his wrist. He looked utterly unfazed, his eyes—hidden beneath the hood's shadow—emotionless and dead.
"Oh, my… I forgot to introduce myself," he replied with faux politeness, the sarcasm now heavy and menacing. He then straightened, his entire demeanor shifting. His voice dropped, becoming heavy with serious, absolute intent, filling the air like a physical force.
"I am Karma," he announced. "I am the consequence of your actions, the punishment for your sins. I am Judgment. I am Nemesis."
He stood there, a specter in the dim light, the silence that followed more terrifying than any gunshot.
The realization hit the gang like a physical blow: their bullets were useless. Faced with this impossible opponent, retreat wasn't a choice; it was their only viable action.
Noah, though trembling internally, attempted to salvage some shred of authority. He forced a strained composure onto his terrified face. "You won this round, but it's not over yet," he declared, nodding for his men to fall back.
They turned, scrambling toward the only exit.
As the gang began their hurried departure, a different thought flared in Damian's mind. The kidnappers. He had let men like these live before, and that time, they had simply created more trouble—more victims, more chaos. The consequence of his previous mercy was the danger facing him now. He wouldn't give them a second chance. Not anymore.
An internal rage, cold and absolute, erupted within him.
Instinct took over, and he moved. It was a blur of superhuman speed, a silent, sudden flash. He wasn't running; he was transporting. In a fraction of a second, Damian was no longer where he had been standing—he was directly in front of the exit, blocking their escape route completely.
"Where do you think you're going?" Damian muttered slowly. His voice was cold, flat, and utterly devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the boiling fury that now governed his movements. The way was sealed.
Damian's impossible speed and his chillingly emotionless words sent a paralyzing coldness down the spines of the three men. In that instant, they didn't just see a powerful opponent; they realized they were standing face to face with a monster, a judgment they could not flee.
Noah finally broke, his forced composure shattering completely. "Please! We would never do it again, please let us live!" he pleaded, his voice high-pitched and raw with unconcealed fear.
"This is my first time, I promise! It would never happen again!" the other gang member quickly added, scrambling to save his own life.
Damian knew better than to listen to hollow promises. If they were capable of pulling the trigger, of threatening an innocent life, they were already lost to the darkness. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the small gap between them.
"The fear of consequences does not equate to change," Damian stated, his voice flat and absolute. "You would kill if given the chance."
As he advanced, the three men immediately dropped to their knees, huddling together and frantically pleading for their lives.
In the midst of their wails, Damian paused. A flicker of internal debate crossed his mind: Should I kill them? Should I let them go? What should I do? He wrestled with the finality of the choice, then decided to defer the ultimate judgment.
"I think I will let her decide," he thought, referring to the victim they had kidnapped. "For now, I would knock them out."
The decision made, hesitation vanished. He moved with blinding speed, faster than their terrified eyes could perceive, striking three precise, non-lethal blows. He held back just enough, ensuring they were simply incapacitated. In an instant, all three gang members crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Damian surveyed the inert bodies. "Well then, it's time to tie them up and wait for this damsel to decide."
A few minutes later, Amy stirred. She woke up slowly, confused, her mind struggling to piece together what had happened. Then, the terrifying memories came flooding back: the struggle, the fear, the darkness.
"Huh… am I dead?" she muttered softly, rubbing her aching temples. She looked around the dimly lit room. "This doesn't look like heaven... Is this hell? My head hurts."
She stood up cautiously, trying to gain her bearings and understand her precarious situation.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a deep, cold voice that seemed to emerge from a dark, shadowed corner of the room.
"You're finally up, my lady."
Damian emerged, his voice detached and void-like, having been waiting in the darkness.
Amy let out a sudden, sharp scream, stumbling backward, terrified by the menacing figure standing silently in the gloom.
"No need to be terrified," Damian assured her, taking a deliberate step into the moonlight. "I was the one who saved you."
Without waiting for her reply, he bent down and effortlessly grabbed the ropes binding the three unconscious men. He began to drag the criminals toward into the light, pulling them out, leaving Amy alone with her fear and confusion.
Damian paused near the doorway, gesturing toward the body of the unconscious man he'd just dragged out. "I assumed this one is your fiancé."
Amy stared at Noah, still struggling to reconcile the gentle man she thought she loved with the terrified criminal. She managed a small, disbelieving nod.
A quiet, painful sob escaped her. "I thought he loved me," she whispered, the betrayal cutting deeper than the kidnapping itself.
DamDamian walked back toward her slowly, his cold demeanor momentarily softened. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheek with his hand.
"Wipe your tears, dear," he said, his gaze locking intensely onto hers. "You're too beautiful to cry."
As she took a steadying breath and managed to stop her quiet sobs, he stepped back, returning to his role as the judge. "Tell me, dear," he asked, his voice returning to its even, serious tone, "what should we do with them?"
Amy took a moment, gathering her resolve. She walked toward the pile of inert men, stopping to stare at Noah's unconscious face.
"We would hand them over to the police," she said softly, the choice made without malice, but with sober finality. A fresh wave of sorrow washed over her, born of a deeper wound. "I can't believe my brothers are also part of this. I gave everything for them." She closed her eyes, on the verge of sobbing again.
Here is the final narrative arrangement, covering the wrap-up of the immediate crisis and Amy's ongoing emotional turmoil:
🌑 Dawn of Consequences
Damian watched the sorrow consume her, his expression unreadable. "It's sad," he commented slowly, his words carrying the weight of experience. "The ones closest to you are the ones who'd hurt you the most. Life can be so cruel." He then gave a chilling, knowing smile. "It's time to surprise your brothers."
Early the next morning, Amy followed through on her promise. She called the police and, with a detachment born of utter devastation, handed her fiancé and his gang over to the authorities. By the time the police arrived, Damian was long gone, vanishing as silently as he had appeared.
During the interrogation, the captured men quickly confessed, confirming Amy's worst fears by naming her older brothers as co-conspirators in the kidnapping plot.
Armed with this information, Amy accompanied the police back to her house. Her brothers were utterly devastated when they saw her, realizing instantly that the game was over. Amy had no words for them; she was broken beyond the point of tears or anger.
After the dust settled and the police had taken her brothers away, she took a long, solitary bath. She was settling in when her phone buzzed. It was her youngest brother, Nick. She hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen, but finally answered.
"Hello?" Amy said softly.
"Big sis, are you okay? What happened, and why is your fiancé on the news?" Nick asked, panic thick in his voice.
The realization hit her hard,someone was protecting her brothers. Their names hadn't been in the news reports about the kidnapping—a clear sign that someone influential in their company was pulling strings, likely aiming to seize control. Amy knew she couldn't break her little brother's heart over the phone.
"It's a long story," she replied, forcing lightness into her tone. "But I promise, when you are done with your exams, I will fill you in on everything."
"My exams will be over in two weeks, and I'll be coming back as soon as possible. Don't forget your promise," Nick insisted. "Please be safe," he added.
"I promise I will be," she said, and ended the call.
Amy leaned back, staring into the middle distance. If my brothers aren't in the news, that could only mean one thing: they aren't going to be charged. They might get away with this. The thought was a crushing weight.
"I hate them, but… a part of me doesn't want them to suffer for it," she whispered to the empty room. "I hate them… I hate myself more."
A single, silent tear rolled down her left cheek, marking the end of one nightmare and the beginning of another.
After a long while, Amy finally stood up, wiping the tear from her cheek. The overwhelming self-loathing was replaced by a cold, sharp purpose. "I would find out who is pulling these strings," she thought to herself, her eyes hardening with resolve as she walked towards her bedroom. The focus had shifted from emotional pain to calculated investigation.
Meanwhile, miles away in Damian's hometown, the atmosphere was one of solemn celebration. It was the scholarship award ceremony for Burnwood University, and Scott stood proudly on the stage as he was presented with the prestigious award.
Damian's parents, Mr. Mike and Mrs. Lucy, were present. They had decided to attend to support Scott, genuinely believing that doing so would honor their late son's wishes.
Scott stood before the microphone, ready to give his acceptance speech. He manufactured a visible tear that rolled down his cheek, and his voice was audibly shaking with what appeared to be raw emotion.
"I'd like to thank everyone who showed up to support me today. This means so much to me," he began. "I'd also want to thank the school and my classmates for their unwavering support, and my best friends who lost their lives a while back. This was their dream, and I would do my best not to fail them."
He paused, then directed his gaze toward the front row where the grieving couple sat. "Lastly, I want to thank Mr. Mike and Mrs. Lucy for coming. They made time, even while grieving, to support me. They have always treated me like their own kid, and I would forever remain grateful."
His words were delivered with a pitch-perfect blend of sympathy and sorrow, yet his heart was privately roaring with excitement. His elaborate plan had been a resounding success.
Damian's parents put on smiles, cheering for him warmly. Though they were still heartbroken over their loss, they were genuinely proud of Scott's achievement and his moving tribute.
The next day, Amy went straight to the police station, expecting to confirm her brothers' official arrest and charging. Instead, she was met with a chilling reality: they were never charged. The evidence against them had been mysteriously disposed of, and they had been quietly freed. She couldn't find out where they had gone, and her calls to them went unanswered.
Frustrated but undeterred, Amy returned to work. She acted as if nothing had happened, burying her trauma beneath a mask of corporate professionalism. While maintaining this façade, she began secretly investigating the board of directors, searching for any member who had ties to her brothers—the powerful person responsible for pulling the strings and erasing the evidence. In the office, a strange, unspoken rule had taken hold: no one was allowed to mention her fiancé, Noah, and no one seemed to know the reason why.
Before Damian had left Amy the previous night, she had reached for the only item of real value she carried: her golden necklace. It was a thank-you gift, a desperate token of gratitude for the life he had saved.
"Take this," she had insisted, pressing the cool metal into his hand. "For saving my life."
Damian took the golden necklace without comment. It was a perfect, practical exchange. He didn't seek recognition, but he needed resources. The gold was the head start he required to establish himself in this new, unfamiliar city. He quickly made his way, leaving Amy to deal with the messy consequences of the betrayal he had prevented.
Two weeks had passed. Amy was taking a bath when her phone began to ring. She quickly stepped out of the shower to answer the persistent call. It was her youngest brother, Nick.
"Hey, big sis! I'm on my way home, I'll be back before dinner," he said frantically, his voice buzzing with excitement. "I hope you'll be home… and don't forget your promise!" he added, reminding her of the conversation they'd had.
"Okay," Amy replied, forcing a soft smile into her voice. "I'd make a feast for your return."
"Okay, big sis, you're the best!" he said before hanging up almost immediately.
Amy held the phone close to her chest, looking up at the ceiling. A profound anxiety settled over her. "How do I break the news to him?" she thought, her smile fading. "How would I tell him that our brothers tried to kill me?"
Her thoughts were interrupted almost instantly by another incoming call. She glanced at the screen and gasped, muttering "Huh???" in sheer disbelief.
It was Charles, the older brother who had orchestrated her kidnap and attempted murder.
"Wha… what does he want?" she whispered in shock. After a moment of paralyzed hesitation, fueled by dread and a need for answers, she finally picked up the call.
"Amy, I'm sorry, I was wrong…" The voice on the phone was Charles, raw and choked with sobs. "Nick tricked us! He told us you were going to kick us out of the company, he convinced us that you wanted to set us up and inherit everything! We were stupid to believe him, please forgive us."
His wailing sounded utterly convincing, full of remorse and self-recrimination.
"We couldn't sleep, thinking about all you sacrificed for us and how we took you for granted. We were fools to believe Nick, please forgive us."
Amy felt a sharp, confusing pain in her chest as tears began to stream down her own cheeks. A whirlwind of doubt struck her. Could they be lying? she thought desperately. Could it be true? Was it all Noah's plan, with luke somehow involved? The sudden shift of blame was disorienting.
"Big sis, please," Charles continued to plead, his voice cracking. "Remember everything we've done together. Remember your promise to Dad and Mom."
Overwhelmed, Amy couldn't speak. She hung up the call and immediately collapsed into a heartbroken fit of tears.
After the emotional breakdown subsided, Amy slowly pulled herself together and walked to her bedroom to get a much-needed nap.
A few hours later, she woke up, disoriented. She grabbed her phone only to find a staggering 78 missed calls from both Charles and her other brother, Luke, indicating their frantic state. There was also a text from Nick: he would arrive in two hours time.
After a long period of contemplation, a risky thought formed. Maybe I should give them a second chance, she mused. Let's have dinner together, let's clear the air. She rationalized the decision: it would be more convenient for her, and easier to explain the complex situation to Nick. I would let him decide, she finalized.
She immediately sent Charles and Luke an invitation to a dinner party in three hours. She then hurried to get up and begin preparing the feast, the anxiety of the coming confrontation fueling her actions.
Here is the narrative arrangement focusing on the heartwarming arrival of Nick and the tense, unexpected reunion of all three brothers:
🫂 The Unwitting Reunion
The dinner was fully prepared. Amy had just finished setting the final touches on the table when she heard a gentle knock at the door. As she opened it, Nick burst through the entrance, jumping straight into her arms with a bright, genuine smile illuminating his face.
"Did you miss me, big sis?" he asked, his voice filled with pure, uncomplicated joy.
His smile was a balm; for a brief moment, it seemed to heal the broken fragments of her heart. She hugged him tightly, muttering softly, "Yes, I did."
She escorted him up to his room, leaving him to get ready for the dinner she had promised.
As soon as he was ready, he bounded back downstairs. He had barely settled in when the doorbell rang, its sound echoing the deep anxiety Amy felt.
"That should be Big Brother Charles and Luke!" Nick exclaimed, his face lighting up again. Unaware of the turmoil and betrayal that had transpired, he hurriedly ran to the door.
He threw the door open, his enthusiasm unchecked. Charles and Luke stood on the doorstep, prepared for a tense, private dinner with Amy.
"Surprise!" Nick announced, beaming as he jumped onto them both, embracing his brothers and forcing a reunion that was far more complicated than he knew.
"Oh, you're back, I didn't know," Charles said, feigning surprise as he slowly returned Nick's hug. In that instant, both Charles and Luke understood: this dinner was now a public trial, and it was going to be a very long, grueling night.
They sat down at the table. The air was thick and heavy, so tense it was almost painful to breathe. No one touched their plate—no one, that is, except Nick, who, oblivious to the atmosphere, had devoured half his meal before finally noticing the awkward silence and the intense, uncomfortable stares.
"Arhhhhhh… what's going on?" Nick said, breaking the silence with a puzzled frown.
Amy turned her gaze directly to Charles, her eyes unwavering. "Should I tell him, or would you?"
Charles bristled, his forced remorse giving way to genuine anger. "Haven't I said I'm sorry? Isn't it enough?"
Amy clapped back almost immediately, her voice rising in cold fury. "Do you think 'sorry' fixes things? Am I supposed to accept your apology and move on like it wasn't traumatizing?"
Luke erupted, his voice more furious than Charles's. "What do you want us to do? Turn back time?"
The retort hit Amy hard. She realized then that they weren't truly sorry for the betrayal and the attempt on her life, only sorry for the consequences. But if they weren't remorseful, why had they even come?
"Hey! Hey!! Hey!!!… Why is everyone shouting?" Nick cried out, interrupting the escalating dispute.
Amy seized the moment, cutting through the intense argument and sparing no details for the sake of her youngest brother. "Charles and Luke gang up with Noah to assassinate me!"
The statement exploded into the tense room. Everything went silent almost immediately. The shock on Nick's face was visibly obvious, transforming his joy into utter disbelief. After a profound, dead silence, Nick finally managed to mutter softly:
"Bu... but why?
"She tried to keep the company to herself! I am the first son and I deserve to inherit everything!" Charles shouted, his face contorted with fury, finally giving his twisted justification.
Amy snapped back instantly, the years of suppressed sacrifice boiling over. "When Dad died, I gave up everything—my dreams, my youth, my time—so that I could keep the company afloat! It was my sweat that kept the company stable so you all wouldn't end up on the streets! I gave everything so that you could be who you are today, and what did I get? Nothing but hate!"
"You lying bitch!" Luke screamed, his tone full of corrosive envy and hatred. "You wanted everything! You wanted us to also be under you! It was all for your selfish desire!"
"You all should stop fighting… How did it get this bad?" Nick pleaded desperately, trying to intervene in the venomous exchange.
Charles turned his rage on his younger brother. "Shut up, brat! You think you have the right to speak here? You're just a child!"
Charles's cutting words struck Nick like a sharp knife. He had hoped for a joyful family reunion, but this was not it—this was chaos, hatred, and destruction. Silent tears began to stream down Nick's face as he quietly absorbed the pain.
Amy, furious and heartbroken, aimed her words at her two younger brothers with a much louder, piercing tone. "Both of you are so damn selfish! You never considered anyone's feelings but yours! You don't care if you're capable of running the company, you don't know the responsibilities that come with it! Your greedy ass just wants power and money, and I promise, you won't get any if you don't change!"
"Is that so," Charles replied, his voice chillingly calm, a stark contrast to his earlier rage.
In that instant, Nick saw it: Luke was subtly reaching toward his waist. Nick's eyes widened in realization. Huhhh… it's a gun, he thought, the truth of their monstrous plan slamming into him.
As Luke pulled the weapon and raised it to shoot Amy, Nick acted without thinking. He lunged forward, pushing Amy forcefully off her chair while screaming, "Run!"
Luke fired. The bullet, meant for Amy, struck Nick, who had just managed to shove his sister out of the way. The projectile went cleanly through his skull, killing him instantly.
Amy scrambled toward the door as Luke continued to fire more shots at her. She managed to escape the house, slipping into the darkness with only a single bullet wound to her left hand.
Luke rushed after her, but she had already vanished into the shadows, disappearing from his sight. Frustrated, Luke returned to the house, finding Charles still standing at the table, staring silently at Nick's dead body.
"I lost her, she escaped!" Luke stammered, his face visibly panicked.
"Can you hear me? I lost her!" he spoke frantically.
"You shot her arm, right?" Charles finally asked, his tone unnervingly cold.
"Yes, I did," Luke replied.
Charles's voice held no emotion as he laid out his final, terrible contingency plan. "That's not a problem. The hospital is far away. She won't be able to make it there by foot, and there aren't any clinics nearby. So, she won't make it by morning."
He continued, his words calculating and precise. "Anyways, we will call this a robbery gone wrong. We will pin it on Noah… Tell the police some men broke in and shot at them while we were upstairs, and they left immediately Amy escaped. They will find Amy's dead body, and that will fit the story perfectly. But if she's alive, she will definitely be passed out, and we will pay whoever is handling her treatment to eliminate her. That will solve all the problems."
The cold certainty in Charles's tone began to settle Luke's nerves. "Are you sure this would work?" Luke asked, his panic starting to subside.
"Yes, I'm certain. My plan is flawless," Charles concluded, turning his gaze from Nick's body toward Luke. "So put on your acting face. It's time to follow my script."
Meanwhile, Amy ran blindly into the darkness, fueled only by adrenaline and a desperate need to escape her murderous brothers. She ran without direction until her legs gave out, and she stumbled upon an uncompleted building. Her heart seized—it looked terrifyingly familiar; it was the same derelict structure where she had been previously kidnapped.
Driven by a primal urge to gain altitude, she entered the building and began climbing toward the top floor. Her heart was shattered, and her feet were shaking with fatigue and shock.
As she walked up the concrete stairs, a torrent of self-recrimination and grief flooded her mind:
"Nick is dead… it's because of me. I shouldn't have let him come back… I should have refused their apology. I should have stopped them from coming.
How could they? How could they do this to their brother… how could they do this to me? What did I do wrong… where did I go wrong?"
"How does it end? Is this the end… what should I do?"
Just then, she reached the roof of the building. She stood on the edge, staring up at the beautiful, indifferent stars, and whispered gently to the void:
"I'm sorry, Nick, for failing you. It was my fault for letting them in. I should have left the company for them and come live with you, but now I lost everything, and worst of all, I lost you."
A single, final tear rolled down her cheek. That was the last of her tears. She felt empty, drained of all emotion. With her younger brother dead, she had nothing left—no purpose, no future.
she took one last look at the sky and thought to herself,
" this is the end for me, I'm sorry for failing you Nick but don't worry, I'd be joining you you soon"
She looked down from the top of a six storey building and said
" Goodbye"