An Understated Dominance by Marina Vittori

A dull sound echoed through the air.

Jovian’s body shuddered. Blood streamed from his eyes, ears, and nose as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. He was dead. After fighting to his last breath, he had chosen the only honorable way out.

The scene had left even the assassins, who were no strangers to bloodshed, momentarily stunned. Taking one’s own life so decisively wasn’t something just anyone could do. Even the lowest of creatures had the instinct to cling to life, let alone a human being.

“This guy… He’s ruthless,” Ronan muttered, and his face darkened.

Warrick had given strict orders to capture Jovian alive, but now he was dead.

Now, Ronan had no way to deliver. If he had known it would come to this, he would have personally intervened to kill Jovian first.

“What now, boss?” one of the assassins asked.

“Clean up the scene,” Ronan ordered. “I’ll take the body back myself.” With that, he hoisted Jovian’s body onto his shoulder, tossed it into the vehicle, and drove off.

Warrick and Huxley were enjoying a casual tea session inside a luxurious private estate while waiting for the mission’s update.

“Mr. Prescott, it’s been a while, and there’s still no word from your men. Don’t tell me that they’ve failed,” Huxley inquired.

“Impossible,” Warrick replied firmly. “My assassins are the best of the best. There’s even a grandmaster martial artist among them. Taking down two nobodies should’ve been effortless.”

He rarely deployed these elite assassins. But when he did, the mission was always a guaranteed success. There had never been an exception.

you say so, then I won’t worry.” Huxley looked

escaped, it would’ve spelled

question is, can you erase all traces of

the entire enforcement team in West Lucozia’s capital is under my command. I’ve already given the order. Nothing from tonight will ever be leaked. By sunrise, Jovian will have vanished without a trace,” Huxley assured him,

interrogation. You clean up the mess. We

raised his teacup in a toast before draining

the two men settled back into their conversation, someone knocked on the

“Enter,” Warrick called.

door swung open. Ronan stepped in first, followed by two subordinates carrying a stretcher. A body lay

him in?” Warrick asked

All we

feet. “You useless fools! I specifically ordered you to bring him in alive. And now you’ve brought

immediately dropped to his knees. ” I’ve failed my mission. I accept

you where you stand.” Warrick unsheathed his blade in

down, Mr. Prescott. No one expected Jovian to kill himself. What’s done is done. Punishing them won’t change anything. We should focus on

reluctantly slid his sword back into its sheath. “Fine. You live. But you won’t get

Sir Prescott,” Ronan said quickly, bowing

lashes meant two weeks of being bedridden, but at least he’d keep