"Deal," Jaxon breathed.
The word scraped out of him like a confession, and the moment it left his lips, he felt the room shift—like air after lightning.
"Then, let's go see the man who will make you untouchable." Sera's lips twitched into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She turned without another word, her guards moving in quiet precision.
The broken door groaned as she stepped into the hall, her perfume slicing through the musty air. Jaxon's pulse hammered, the sound filling his skull. He grabbed his briefcase, his fingers slick, and followed.
Downstairs, two black SUVs idled under the streetlight, engines purring. He hesitated before the open door, staring at the leather seats that looked more like a trap than comfort. Sera's voice cut through. "Get in, Troll Lord."
He climbed in. The door shut, sealing him into the hum of the car, the faint vibration under his shoes. Sera sat beside him, perfectly calm, scrolling her phone. He tried to breathe slowly, but his chest wouldn't obey.
The city smeared past in streaks of light. Neon, glass, rain. Every flash reflected his face in the tinted window—wide eyes, tight jaw, sweat beading even in the AC.
He could still smell dust from his apartment, still feel the weight of the cracked tiles under his feet. Now he was in a moving fortress beside a woman who could order his death with one word.
Sera finally looked up. "You should know something," she said, tone flat but cutting. "The man you leaked—the prince—he's not just royalty. He was running for Mayor of New Avalon."
Jaxon blinked.
She watched his face like she was studying prey. "Yes. The election's tomorrow. You didn't just destroy a scandal, Jaxon. You detonated a campaign."
His stomach dropped. "Oh my God," he muttered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His throat burned, his vision swimming. He pressed his palms together, tried to steady his breath. "You're saying I—I just ruined a prince's political career?"
Sera smirked faintly. "You did more than that. You created a power vacuum."
The car turned through massive iron gates into a compound bathed in white light. Guards with rifles, drones overhead. His gut tightened. *This is it, he thought. They're going to kill me here."
The car stopped in front of a mansion that looked like it had swallowed the night. Sera stepped out first, heels clicking on marble. Jaxon followed, legs shaking. The air smelled like rain and iron.
The man waiting at the door looked carved from command—broad, grey, medals gleaming. The General. His eyes locked on Jaxon like a scope. "So," he said slowly, "this is the boy who burned a prince."
Jaxon swallowed. His voice caught in his throat.
Beside the General stood another man, younger, sharp suit, a politician's grin—his son. "I'm Adrien," he said, extending a hand. "Your chaos is… efficient."
Jaxon hesitated, then took it. Adrien's grip was firm, eyes gleaming with victory. "You've done what our ops couldn't do in years," the General said. "That scandal will finish our opponent. You've done the city a favor—whether you meant to or not."
Inside, the mansion buzzed like a war zone—screens everywhere, maps, encrypted servers blinking with lines of code. Jaxon sat where they told him to, heart thudding against his ribs. The General slid a digital pad toward him. "Sign," he said. "From now on, you're ours. Codename: Centurion Jax. One hundred operatives under you—hackers, forgers, field men. They protect you, erase you if needed. Betray us, and there'll be nothing left to delete."
Jaxon looked at the screen, his name glowing faintly at the bottom. His hand shook as he pressed his thumb to it.
It was what he needed. If all was true, he'd be untouchable.
"Good," the General said, satisfied. "Welcome to the war."
Sera smiled, softer now. "Let's show him his kingdom."
The next car ride felt like a fever dream. Jaxon's head buzzed. The city tilted and glittered below as they climbed higher and higher. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped into another world—glass walls, endless skyline, furniture that gleamed like untouched wealth. The penthouse pulsed with quiet power. Below, a whole floor of screens and tech—his new command center.
"This is… mine?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.
"All yours," Sera said. "Off-grid. No traceable data. Three cars in the garage, AI firewalls, encrypted communications. You're not a boy with a blog anymore. You're a ghost with teeth."
He let out a broken laugh, pressing a hand to his chest. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
She stepped closer. "You're the only man in this city who turned heartbreak into revolution."
He turned toward her. She was closer now, eyes reflecting the neon skyline. Her voice softened. "I haven't seen anyone as creative as you. How do you even think of this stuff?"
His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He felt her breath on his neck, the faint tremor in his knees. "I… I just feel it," he muttered. "Pain's a good teacher."
She smiled, like she'd expected that. The space between them crackled—unspoken, electric. He hadn't felt it since Kayla. But Kayla's face hit him suddenly, unbidden. The memory of her laugh. The way she said his name.
Then it struck him—sharp, sudden. "It's the auction today," he said.
Sera frowned. "What auction?"
"Kayla's family. They're auctioning the last of their estate. I have to go."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to—"
"Please," he said, voice cracking. "Just once. I need to see it."
She studied him for a long beat. Then sighed. "Fine. But my way."
***
The Maybach rolled through the marble gates of the auction hall an hour later. Two black vans followed, tinted and silent. Jaxon's pulse pounded. Every step out of that car felt like walking into the past wrapped in gold. Eyes followed him. Whispers bloomed like sparks.
"That's him."
"The Troll Lord."
"The man who took down a prince."
He could feel their gaze crawling across his mask, his clothes, his existence. His heart was trying to punch through his ribs. He straightened, pretending calm.
Corey was there—lean, smug, mouth twisting when he saw Jaxon. He started toward him, but froze when the suited guards shifted, rifles glinting under their coats. Fear flickered in his eyes, and he stepped back.
Jaxon walked past him, every step a declaration. Inside, chandeliers blazed. The auctioneer's voice rose and fell. Kayla sat in the front row, dressed like mourning. Her eyes caught his, wide and glassy.
The first item—a clock, gold, ornate. He raised his hand. "Five thousand," he said. Gasps rippled. He bought another, and another. When people asked what he'd do with them, he stood and said, "They'll go to the orphanage. Every last one."
Kayla's mother's lips parted, shocked.
Then came the deed to the family foundation. Jaxon bid without blinking. Silence followed the hammer. He smiled thinly. "Consider it in better hands."
He stood to leave. Kayla rushed after him, tears breaking her poise. "Jaxon—please! You don't understand!"
He turned, voice even. "I understand perfectly," he said. "You and Corey—keep the cameras rolling. The world's entertained."
Her face crumpled. He took Sera's hand, lifted it, and kissed it lightly. "I've moved on."
Gasps again. Flashes. Corey stiffened, fury in his jaw. Sera's guards closed in.
Outside, night air hit him like baptism. He exhaled hard, chest heaving. The city lights shimmered in his mask's reflection. He laughed—half-sob, half-triumph. "Did you see them?" he whispered to Sera. "They finally saw me."
Sera only watched him, unreadable. "Be careful," she murmured. "The higher you rise, the sharper the eyes on you."
His phone buzzed. Notifications spiraled. #TrollLordReturns. #KingOfChaos. Money, fame, everything surging again.
Then one message blinked to life. Anonymous. No name, no profile.
*If you want the real scandals, enter the Eros Vault.*
He stared at it, heartbeat stuttering. "The what?" he whispered.
The message vanished.
Sera noticed his expression. "What is it?"
He looked up slowly. "Something new," he said. "And it feels dangerous."