The Almighty Dominance

Suddenly, the deafening roar of engines shattered the quiet, signaling the arrival of an armed convoy barreling down the road.

A storm of dust kicked up behind them, making the approaching vehicles seem monstrous, unstoppable.

Each armored truck proudly bore the intimidating insignias of twelve notorious mercenary groups.

Within moments, the convoy crashed to a halt, barricading the base's entrance completely.

Doors slammed open, and over four hundred heavily armed mercenaries spilled onto the road.

Guns gleaming under the sunlight, their eyes locked onto General Marcus with ruthless determination.

The atmosphere became electric, vibrating with the explosive threat of imminent violence. War hung heavy in the air, just a heartbeat away.

From within the mass of mercenaries emerged Lyra Thompson, walking confidently, flanked by the ruthless leaders of each mercenary group.

General Marcus, his face darkening, marched forward from the base entrance to confront her.

He knew exactly who she was-daughter of Joe Thompson, once the infamous Sixth Lord of Chicago who got kicked out of the Chicago Lords.

Trouble ran deep in her veins.

"Lyra Thompson!" Marcus roared furiously, his voice echoing across the tense space between them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, bringing mercenaries to storm my base? Are you insane enough to declare war?"

Lyra stared him down, cool and unflinching. "I've come for Alex. Hand him over peacefully, or I'll take him by force."

Marcus felt the rage ignite like wildfire within him.

"You've got some damn nerve!" he spat, eyes blazing with fury.

"I answer directly to the Chicago Lords! Is the Thompson family truly ready to start a war with them?"

Lyra gave him a cold, unbothered smile. "You clearly don't understand your own position, Marcus.

Jasmine Kingston, Alfred Kingston, Kelly Kingston-the governors of three states are behind me. The real question is: Are you willing to risk war with all of us?"

Marcus's face twisted with fury, veins bulging from his neck.

"How dare you threaten a Major General! Soldiers, get out here, now!"

Instantly, soldiers surged from the base gates, weapons at the ready.

Marcus's men squared off against Lyra's mercenaries, the hostility between the two sides igniting into palpable bloodlust.

"Move in! Bring Alex out!" Lyra commanded sharply, her voice echoing with steely resolve.

The mercenaries stepped forward as one deadly wave, but Marcus blocked their path, drawing his pistol.

He aimed it straight ahead, his hand trembling with barely-contained rage.

"Anyone takes one step closer and I'll put a bullet through your skull!"

Lyra took another defiant step forward, her eyes daring him without fear. "You're welcome to try."

"You think I won't?" Marcus snarled through clenched teeth, sweat beading his forehead.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Lyra!"

Without hesitation, Lyra raised her hand high, voice ringing clearly for all to hear.

"One hundred million dollars for Marcus's head! Mercenary or soldier, doesn't matter! Whoever shoots him first gets the money!"

Her words hit Marcus like a punch to the gut.

His heart hammered furiously against his ribs, a chilling realization dawning on him.

One hundred million dollars-enough to make even the most loyal soldier reconsider.

No, even his wife wouldn't hesitate to take his life.

Marcus could practically feel the greedy eyes of his own men turning toward him, calculating.

Panic surged through Marcus, his pulse pounding. He tried desperately to save himself.

"Wait! Anyone who kills me will answer to the Chicago Lords!"

Yet as he frantically scanned the faces around him, Marcus saw betrayal lurking everywhere.

His own soldiers eyed him hungrily, weapons held tightly, fingers twitching on triggers.

Marcus knew in that dreadful instant-he was no longer safe.

He realized, with sickening clarity, he was about to die-betrayed, helpless, and alone.

"Damn it, Lyra!" General Marcus snapped.

His sluggish brain, usually occupied only with women and parties, suddenly spun into overdrive.

The Chicago Lords were forcing him into a suicidal war with three powerful states, leaving his own life dangling by a thread.

Now, every choice mattered, every decision could mean life or death.

After a tense silence, he finally spoke. "Half a billion."

Lyra narrowed her eyes, puzzled. "What?"

"You give me half a billion, and I'll hand Alex back to you," Marcus clarified, the words sharp and certain.

Lyra scoffed mockingly. "Half a billion? Come on, Marcus. A hundred million could buy me your head instead-and that's way cheaper."

Marcus leaned closer, eyes darkening. "I'll throw in the heads of four Chicago Lords, too."

In his mind, the calculation was clear.

Holding onto Alex meant certain death at the hands of the Three States.

Releasing him, however, meant war with the Chicago Lords-but they were easier prey, and the rewards far richer.

Greed and survival pointed in the same direction: betray and kill.

Lyra's expression shifted from skepticism to delight, her smile dangerous.

"Now we're finally speaking the same language. But tell me which one gets to live from the five?"

"Johnson," Marcus replied without hesitation.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why him?"

"Because that greedy bastard cares only

hunting him, he'll offer me

as

hout money. If he finds much. Can't kill off my cathe outa'm

just

yet."

Lyra smirked wickedly. "Whatever Johnson offers, I'll double it. Kill him, too."

Marcus eyed Lyra suspiciously from head to toe, skepticism dripping from his voice.

"Didn't Thompson just lose all your money in Vancouver? You sure you even have enough cash left?"

Without a word, Lyra pulled out her phone, tapping the screen once and showing Marcus the number.

His eyes widened instantly, disbelief evident on his face.

"Well damn," he muttered, impressed. "If you've got that kind of money, Johnson's

as good as dead."

"When are you making your move?" Lyra demanded impatiently.

Marcus straightened, decisive and confident. "If you guarantee thenoveldrama

three states will stop raining missiles on me, I'll take the Lords down immediately. And if your

mercenaries join my men, it'bmake everything go faster."

Lyra turned sharply to the mercenary leaders. "You heard the General. You get

paid when it's done."

"Deal," growled one leader. "As long as the cash comes, we'll slaughter whoever you point us at."

Marcus laughed, a deep, relieved chuckle-finally seeing his way out of hell.

Facing five unsuspecting Chicago Lords was infinitely preferable to nuclear annihilation.

"Lyra, Alex is still inside," Marcus added, suddenly businesslike.

"My men will take you to him. Give me an hour. I'll drag the Lords back here, alive or dead, and you can finally have the revenge you've been craving for your family."

"Who knows, if the King agrees, you might even become the Chicago governor."