Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

Anger. Shock. Accusations. Everyone who had just been throwing stones at Axel now turned them on Esme.

She sat slumped in her chair, eyes wide, cheeks burning red. She couldn't even bring herself to look up.

The footage continued. A new voice entered—Blackstone's laugh echoing through the alley.

Now everyone understood what had happened. How it had really gone down.

At the head of the room, Wesley's jaw clenched.

"Esme!" he snapped.

Everyone who had been defending her was now shouting her down, cursing her name. Esme sat still, trembling, face red as bruised flesh. For the first time in her life, no one was shielding her. Not even her brother.

"No... no, it's fake," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It's fake. You're just protecting him!"

Her eyes locked on Axel, pure hatred burning behind them. "You bastard...!"

Axel met her gaze with cold indifference. "Who the fucking hell do you think you are," he said flatly, "that I'd go out of my way to frame you?"

"You... you...!" Esme's voice twisted into a shriek. "Brother! They're bullying me! Are you really going to just sit there and let them?! Kill him! Do something!"

Maxen stood up slowly. His eyes locked on Axel. All of this—all of this*—because of him.

He let out a long breath. "Enough," he growled.

A wave of raw force pulsed off of him, silencing the room. The air trembled with his power.

"We made a mistake," he said. "So what? She lost her temper. Girls are emotional. Let it go."

Wesley's expression darkened even further. Axel… said nothing.

Esme still stared daggers at Axel, unwilling to back down.

But just then, Axel casually tilted his neck, a quiet pop echoing in the tense air. His voice was low, calm, and cold:

"Did I say she could leave?"

The words hit like a whip. Maxen and Esme froze. Wesley turned toward Axel, a gnawing bad sense tightening in his chest.

"Oh?" Maxen chuckled, though the sound carried an edge now. "What more do you want, kid?"

Axel's eyes didn't even flicker.

"You said it yourself—anyone who leaks the identity of a Whisper Syndicate member gets executed."

Esme's eyes darted around the room. She looked stunned—rattled.

"Captain Wesley," Axel said smoothly, "did I misquote the rules?"

Wesley hesitated… and then slowly shook his head. "No. That's correct."

"You—what are you trying to do?" Esme's voice was tight, fear rising in her throat as Axel stepped forward.

"Nothing special," Axel replied, his tone deadly calm. "Just enforcing the rules."

In one motion, his bracelet shifted—snapping and folding until it formed into a sleek black pistol. The muzzle gleamed under the conference room lights. A collective breath caught in the room. Silence fell like a shroud.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

No one moved. No one else would've dared.

Everyone in that room knew the implications—Esme wasn't just anyone. She was Maxen's sister. And Maxen was Havoc Division. Nobody crossed Havoc Division.

"You want to kill her?" Maxen's expression twisted into something between shock and rage. "You actually think you can?"

His Force surged through the room like a pulse of pressure. It made the weaker ones flinch—made even the air feel heavier.

He was a mid-tier Level Four awakener. Respected. Feared. Krythos knew his name.

And Havoc Division was no small-time outfit. United. Powerful. Untouchable.

Maxen scoffed. "You should be thinking about your future. You want resources? Recognition? I'll make sure you're well taken care of. But you're not laying a finger on my sister."

He placed a firm hand in front of Esme protectively. "Tell me what you want, kid. I'll give it to you. Anything. Just name it."

But Axel didn't stop walking. Every step echoed like a countdown, his footsteps sharp against the tile.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Esme's heart pounded in sync with the sound, louder and louder in her chest.

Axel didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"I gave her a chance. She spat on it. You really think the rules of the Whisper Syndicate are some kind of fucking joke?" His eyes never left Esme, but his words were for Wesley. "Captain, the evidence is clear. I'm carrying out the execution. Any objections?"

Wesley felt the hair on his arms rise. In that moment, he realized something terrifying: he had misjudged Axel. Completely.

"…No objections," Wesley said at last, his voice firm.

"Good." Axel nodded, his tone flat, final.

For a moment, it felt like the entire conference room had flipped—Axel wasn't on trial anymore. He was the executioner. Wesley? Just another bystander offering procedural clearance.

Maxen finally looked shaken. "You're actually going to do it?" he said, stunned.

Behind him, Esme had backed herself against the wall. The rage was gone. The arrogance was gone. Her face had twisted into raw fear.

"You can't do this! My brother's going to kill you! You think you can kill me? You think you'll walk out of here alive?!"

Axel didn't even look at her. He turned toward the room, raising his voice so everyone could hear.

"Where are the Syndicate members? If anyone from Havoc Division dares interfere with a sanctioned Whisper Syndicate execution…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

The sudden tension in the room was like static before a lightning strike. The official Syndicate members, previously silent, shifted—subtly—but enough that Maxen felt it. Their presence pressed in on him, invisible weights locking onto his shoulders.

They were watching.

Wesley didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The unspoken message was clear.

If Maxen moved, if he so much as raised a hand—he'd be next.

Even he wouldn't be protected from what came next. And for the first time in a very long time, Maxen knew exactly what it felt like to be on the edge of death.

"You—don't come any closer!" Esme's voice cracked, trembling as Axel closed the distance between them step by step. She could feel Maxen tense beside her, but no help came.

"If you kill me," she shrieked, panic giving way to rage, "my brother will kill you! I swear he will!"

Everyone in the room held their breath. It wasn't just a threat anymore—it was leverage. Even if he were demanding gold or absolution, Maxen would have to bite his tongue and give in. Surely, this was the moment Axel would stop.

But he didn't.

Axel stood in front of her, eyes unreadable, expression colder than steel. He slowly raised the muzzle of his pistol, now glowing faintly with Force.

"Brother! Brother—save me!" Esme wailed, desperation cracking through her voice like glass. It echoed through the chamber, haunting and raw.

Maxen was silent. Still. Waiting. Waiting for Axel to name his price, to make it transactional. No sane man would take the shot. No one was that reckless—not against Havoc Division.

"No one acts without cost," Axel murmured.

Bang.

The shot rang out like thunder, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Force-enhanced and precise, the bullet tore through Esme's skull. Her head jerked back violently as brain matter splattered the wall behind her. Her lifeless body hit the floor with a thud, blood pooling fast around her.

The entire room froze.

A hushed, horrified silence fell over the audience.

Even those who'd admired Axel's cunning couldn't have predicted this. They knew he was smart—calculating, even brilliant. But this... this was something else entirely.

This was ruthless.

Wesley exhaled slowly. Dead. She was actually dead. He turned to Axel, who hadn't moved—still standing with the gun in his hand, his face unreadable.

This kid was colder than he'd ever imagined.

"You… actually killed her?!" Maxen's voice shook with fury, his eyes locked on Esme's crumpled body.

His mind reeled. The moment the gun fired, everything had gone white-hot in his skull. Axel had just made himself an enemy—not just of Maxen, but of Havoc Division itself. Was this bastard insane?

"You're fucking dead!" Maxen roared, and his Force exploded outward like a supernova.