The Almighty Dominance

Owen and his bodyguards stood frozen in a stunned stupor, their tends too clouded by shock to fathom the chaos erupting around them.

Rushing to the penthouse balcony, Owen gripped the railing tight and stared down into the shadows below.

His breath hitched sharply when he glimpsed a man, powerfully built and fiercely determined, cradling a woman tenderly in his

strong arms.

Nearby, the thunderous rhythm of helicopter blades filled the nig air, whipping it into a violent tempest.

More lights pierced through the darkness, an ominous swarm converging swiftly upon the hotel.

A wicked smile twisted Owen's lips, his eyes gleaming cruelly. "Looks like our guest has finally arrived," he chuckled, a harsh laugh escaping his throat, completely devoid of remorse for Josephine's fate.

Women, to him, were nothing more than expendable toys, easily broken and casually discarded.

Snatching the pistol off his bedside table, Owen sneered coldly, "Killing Alex and taking the Heaven Root? Hell, that's child's play."

Meanwhile, Jericho Kane's helicopter hovered in midair, frozen in shock.

He could barely comprehend what he had just witnessed-his passenger had flung himself out of the chopper without a parachute, diving headfirst toward a woman plummeting from the penthouse balcony.

"What the hell... is he Superman?" the pilot muttered, stunned, his hands gripping the controls as he guided the chopper toward the rooftop helipad of the Skyview Hotel, awaiting further orders with bated breath.

At that same moment, six more helicopters tore through the night skies, engines roaring like war drums.

They bore the insignia of Conrad Dupont-each one packed with merciless, battle- hardened soldiers.

Inside the lead chopper, their commander, Yorick, leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a blade.

Through the binoculars, he locked onto a lone figure standing boldly at the hotel forecourt-a man cradling a woman in his arms like a knight descending into hell. Yorick's eyes narrowed.

"That's him," he growled. "Target in sight."

"Sir," Yorick urgently communicated through the radio to Conrad back in Chicago, his voice tight with anticipation.

"We've got eyes on Henry's killer."

Conrad's furious voice crackled sharply through the speaker, pure venom dripping from his words.

bastard grovel and

commands to his men as the helicopters

a protective embrace, his voice strained with

I was too

with exhaustion yet courageously defiant. "Alex,

as his gaze traced the bruises marring Josephine's delicate face and tattered

hurt you?" he

Chapter 221

and pain etched deeply

tried to violate me," she admitted softly, her voice breaking. "But

you dead."

Alex gently

commanded softly yet

Josephine murmured weakly as overwhelming fatigue overcame her, and she slumped gently into unconsciousness. By now, six helicopters hadtouched down, disgorging sixty heavily-armed

with deadly

arrogantly stepped out of the hotel entrance and onto the forecourt, flanked by five of his guards. His eyes widened in disbelief at

sharply. "Who

Whitman," Owen declared

That man owes me a Heaven Root. Before you turn him into Swiss

Conrad's furious voice once

take the Heaven Root first. It's valuable. If he refuses to hand it over afterward, kill

strutting forward as though stepping onto a stage set just for him, utterly convinced the world revolved

her?" Alex growled,

of

enjoy every second of it. What are you gonna do about

the air

slightly as Alex's quiet

"Explode."

five guards like a freight

lungs as their bodies were pulverized, bones shattering and flesh exploding in a gruesome spray of blood

and drenched his clothes. Stumbling backward, Owen raised his shaking gun, terror replacing bravado. "Who...who

pierced the night as he stared numbly at the shredded remains

step, another brutal force exploded through the air, shredding his leg apart. He screamed as he

unfolding before them without a single visible attacker. "Please... help me," Owen sobbed pathetically, his pride shattered utterly. "Yorick!" Conrad barked urgently through the line. "Is Whitman being attacked?" "Yes, sir," Yorick stammered, confusion evident. "But there's no shooter