The swamp was silent again, but it was a heavy, suffocating silence. On that cursed stretch of road known as the Death Strip, only broken glass and black tire marks remained as evidence of the violence that had just occurred. The air still reeked of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel. MJ and Bunny were gone, having fled the scene just minutes before, but the game was far from over.
From the darkness, a low rumble emerged, growing louder until it became a roar. The same black sports car that had unleashed chaos moments ago returned to the scene. It prowled onto the shoulder of the road and came to a halt. The door swung open, and a figure stepped out into the humid night air. He wore a mask painted with the visage of a Falcon the raptor that sees everything. His posture radiated a terrifying confidence and a cold, predatory cruelty. He did not remove his mask. To him, the mask was his true face; the skin underneath was merely a disguise.
He walked slowly toward the wreckage of MJ's abandoned car. His movements were calculated, his head tilting slightly as he scanned the debris like a vulture picking through bones. He examined the shattered windshield, noting the blood on the glass shards. A dark satisfaction seemed to ripple through him. He leaned into the driver's side window, ignoring the jagged glass, and inspected the dashboard. His gloved hand reached out and ripped the glove compartment open with a violent jerk.
There, nestled in the back, was a small, black leather packet.
The Falcon picked it up, weighing it in his hand. He unzipped it slowly. As he peered inside, the expression in the eyes behind the mask shifted instantly. The malicious glee vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense gravity. His gaze darkened, becoming sharp and focused. It was as if he had found exactly what he was hunting for or perhaps something that shocked even him. He snapped the packet shut and shoved it deep into the inner pocket of his jacket. Without wasting another second, he returned to his car, the engine roaring to life as he vanished into the smoke and shadows. The jungle pulled its cloak of silence back over the road, but a massive secret had just left with him.
Miles away from the chaos of the swamp and the neon pulse of the city, a massive, imposing mansion stood atop a secluded hill. This was the headquarters of the Red Knights. The architecture was brutalist and intimidating, a fortress of concrete and steel designed to withstand a siege. Security here was so tight that it felt as though even the wind needed permission to enter. High walls topped with razor wire surrounded the perimeter, and every corner was patrolled by Black Commandos armed with automatic rifles.
Bunny's car approached the main gate, its headlights cutting through the fog. The vehicle was battered, its engine whining in protest. The guards recognized the car immediately and the heavy iron gates swung open. Bunny drove through, parking haphazardly near the entrance. She jumped out and ran to the passenger side, yanking the door open to help MJ.
"Easy, MJ. Your leg is bad," Bunny said, her voice laced with worry as she saw fresh blood soaking through the makeshift bandage.
MJ groaned through grit teeth, clutching her side. "I'm fine, Bunny. Just get me inside. I need to sit down."
Bunny wrapped MJ's arm around her shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged her up the stone steps. The moment they entered the grand main hall, the atmosphere shifted from physical pain to psychological tension. The air inside was thick, charged with aggression.
Descending the grand staircase was a figure that commanded attention. He wore a mask printed with the face of a Werewolf wild, feral, and dangerous. This was Edward, the heir to the Red Knight empire. He looked like a soldier preparing for war. In his hands, he held a massive Desert Eagle pistol, his fingers deftly loading bullets into the magazine with practiced, lethal precision. The speed of his movements betrayed his inner turmoil; he was furious.
But the moment his eyes landed on MJ, his hands froze mid-action. The magazine clicked into place, but he didn't holster the weapon. Instead, he tossed the heavy gun onto a nearby velvet sofa and sprinted down the remaining stairs.
"MJ!" Edward's voice cracked with panic.
He reached her in seconds, taking her weight from Bunny and guiding her gently to the nearest couch. As MJ sank into the cushions, Edward knelt before her. His eyes scanned her body, taking in the blood-soaked clothes, the shards of glass embedded in her skin, and the bruises forming on her arms. His face went pale, draining of color, before flushing a deep, violent red. The beast in his mask seemed to come alive in his eyes.
"What is this? Who did this?" Edward roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned bone-white. "Tell me the name, MJ! I swear on my life, I will give them a death so painful their soul will shudder. Who touched my MJ?"
MJ reached out and placed her trembling hand over his clenched fist. She knew Edward's temper. She knew the lengths he would go to for her, and right now, she needed to de-escalate the situation before he burned the city down.
"Relax, Edward. Calm down," MJ whispered, forcing a smile despite the agony radiating from her ribs. "I dozed off while driving. I hit a tree. It was just a small accident."
Edward narrowed his eyes, the skepticism evident. He leaned closer, inspecting the wounds. The angle of the glass cuts, the bruising these weren't from a tree. These were impact wounds. Defensive wounds.
"A small accident?" Edward asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think I don't know what a car crash looks like versus an attack?"
MJ faltered slightly under his intense gaze. "I mean... it was a big accident. But I'm okay. Really."
"How can you be so careless, MJ?" Edward scolded, though the anger was now wrapped in palpable fear. "If you were tired, you should have let Bunny drive. You should have called me. Why do you always have to put yourself in danger?"
"Because she has a hobby of courting death, Edward!"
A heavy, authoritative voice boomed from the main entrance, slicing through their conversation.
Edward and MJ jerked their heads toward the door. Standing there was a tall, broad, and impeccably stylish man. He wore a bespoke Italian suit that cost more than most people earned in a year, but his eyes held a cruel, reptilian glint. This was Dragon.
The moment Edward heard that voice, his entire demeanor shifted. The concern and tenderness he had shown MJ evaporated, replaced instantly by a wall of irritation and loathing. He stood up slowly, positioning himself between MJ and the newcomer.
MJ tried to diffuse the tension. She straightened up as best she could and extended a hand. "Hello, Dragon," she said, keeping her voice soft and polite.
Dragon looked at her as if she were a stain on the carpet. He didn't just ignore her hand; he looked through her entirely, focusing his gaze solely on Edward. There was a strange intensity in Dragon's eyes when he looked at Edward a mix of possessiveness and adoration that bordered on madness.
"You keep such careless company, Edward," Dragon sneered, stepping closer. "Always collecting strays."
Edward's jaw tightened. He fought to keep his voice steady. "Watch your mouth, Dragon," he said through grit teeth. "MJ works for me. She earns her place here. She gets a salary and respect. She is not a pet."
Dragon laughed, a dry, piercing sound that lacked any real humor. "Believe what you want, Edward. But look at her. To me, and to the world, she's just a servant. This dirty habit of yours hasn't changed since we were kids, has it? You used to pick up filthy puppies from the street, wash them, and let them sleep in your bed. You're doing the exact same thing now."
Dragon pointed a manicured finger at MJ. "You've grown up, Edward, but you haven't matured. You still put gutter trash on a pedestal."
MJ's face burned with humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes, but she bit her lip and stayed silent. She knew the history between Edward and Dragon was complex, a tangled web of business and personal vendettas. Bunny, standing nearby, looked ready to lunge at Dragon, but MJ grabbed her wrist, signaling her to stand down.
But Edward's patience had snapped.
"That's enough!" Edward shouted. He raised his hand, stepping forward as if to slap Dragon across the face.
"STOP, EDWARD!"
A thunderous command from the top of the stairs froze Edward's hand in mid-air.
Descending slowly was Marcus, Edward's father and the Supreme Leader of the Red Knights. He moved with the weight of a king, his presence filling the room.
"Behave yourself, Edward," Marcus said, his tone icy. "You seem to be forgetting that Dragon is our guest."
Edward lowered his hand but didn't back down. He glared at Dragon with eyes full of fire. "Not mine. He's your guest."
"My guest means a guest of this house," Marcus ordered, reaching the bottom of the stairs. "You will not forget your manners. Say sorry to him. Right now."
"No way!" Edward spat the words out. "I will not apologize to him, Dad. He doesn't deserve it!"
"Edward!" Marcus bellowed.
"Don't shout at me, Dad!" Edward screamed back, his anger finally erupting like a dormant volcano. His voice shook the walls of the hall. "Your precious 'guest' started it! He insulted MJ. He disrespected my people. Tell him to stay in his limits. If he's a business partner, let him act like one. He has no right to speak about my personal matters or the people I care about!"
Dragon's eyes narrowed, jealousy flaring up like a struck match. He stepped into Edward's personal space, lowering his voice to a whisper that only they could hear. "What is it about this girl, Edward? Why do you care so much? What is this relationship that makes you willing to fight the whole world for her?"
Edward stepped forward, chest to chest with Dragon. He looked him dead in the eye and spoke with a voice cold enough to freeze hell. "Don't you talk to me about relationships, Dragon. A man who couldn't be loyal to his own father has no right to question anyone else's loyalty."
The words hit Dragon like a physical blow. His face went rigid, his skin flushing with rage. That was a deep wound, a reference to a dark betrayal in Dragon's past.
"Edward!" Dragon snarled.
Edward smirked, a cruel, mocking expression. "Did that hurt? It hurts me just as much when you talk trash about the people I love." He glanced back at MJ, then locked eyes with Dragon again. "I can tolerate a lot, Dragon. Your arrogance, your betrayal, your bullshit. But if anyone insults my MJ, I will not tolerate it. Do you understand? My MJ."
My MJ.
Those two words pierced Dragon's heart like a dagger. A storm of jealousy, helplessness, and pure hatred swirled in his eyes.
"Edward... MJ... stop it. Please," MJ whispered weakly from the couch. She didn't want to be the cause of a war.
Edward's demeanor softened instantly. He turned his back on Dragon and walked to MJ, taking her hand with incredible gentleness. "Come on. Let me dress those wounds."
He helped her up, supporting her weight as they moved toward the stairs.
"Edward! Where are you going?" Marcus shouted after him. "We have an important discussion! That is why Dragon is here. We need to talk about the Black Rose expansion!"
Edward didn't even look back. "You and your special guest can decide everything. Why do you need me?"
With that, he guided MJ up the stairs and disappeared into the shadows of the second floor.
The hall fell into a heavy silence. Dragon stood rooted to the spot, his body rigid as a statue. His fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails broke the skin of his palms, drawing small crescents of blood.
Marcus rubbed his temples, sighing deeply. "I am sorry, Dragon. You know how he is... he's a bit..."
Dragon ignored him completely. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the mansion, his footsteps echoing like gunshots on the marble floor.
Outside, the cool night air did nothing to cool his temper. He reached his car and kicked the tire with all his strength.
"Damn it!" he screamed at the sky.
Edward's words replayed in his mind on an agonizing loop. My MJ. My MJ. My MJ.
Dragon leaned against the hood of his car, breathing heavily. The truth was a jagged pill to swallow. Dragon's heart beat for Edward. He was gay, and for years, he had loved Edward with a madness that defied logic. It wasn't just love; it was an obsession, a consuming fire. He had built his empire, destroyed his enemies, all in the hopes of one day standing beside Edward as an equal, as a partner in every sense.
And today, Edward had rejected him. Not just rejected him, but humiliated him in front of everyone for a nobody. For a simple girl.
"This is all because of her," Dragon whispered to himself, his voice trembling. Tears of rage and heartbreak welled in his eyes. "If she wasn't there, Edward would be mine. He would see me. Edward belongs to me. Only me."
He looked up at the lighted window of Edward's bedroom. He imagined Edward's hands tending to MJ, touching her skin, worrying about her pain. The jealousy twisted inside him like a knife.
"She took him from me. She is the wall between us," Dragon hissed. His sadness hardened into a cold, lethal resolve. "I will kill her. Once she is dead, there will be no one left to distract him. Edward will have no choice but to come to me. I will remove her from the equation permanently."
With a final glare at the window, Dragon got into his car and sped off, the tires screeching as he planned a murder.
Upstairs in the bedroom, the atmosphere was quiet and intimate. Edward was carefully cleaning the glass shards from MJ's arm. His hands, usually wrapped around the grip of a gun, were incredibly tender. He worked with the precision of a surgeon, dabbing antiseptic on the cuts.
MJ watched him silently. She saw the conflict in his face, the storm raging behind his eyes.
"Edward... you shouldn't have done that," MJ said softly, breaking the silence.
Edward didn't stop his work. He didn't look up. "Done what?"
"You shouldn't have disrespected your Dad and Dragon like that. They are powerful people, Edward. And right now, with the Black Rose moving into our territory, we need allies. We can't afford internal fighting. We have to stand together."
Edward finished bandaging her arm and finally looked into her eyes. There was a deep, profound sadness in his gaze that he rarely showed the world.
"MJ, you don't need to worry about politics right now. Just focus on yourself," he said quietly.
He stood up and walked to the large window overlooking the estate. The moonlight cast long shadows across his face.
"If you keep being this careless, MJ, one day I'm going to find you hanging from a tree in that swamp," Edward said, his voice thick with emotion. "This world is black. It's filled with darkness. Don't expect mercy here. No one will pity you."
He turned back to her, walked over, and sank to his knees beside the couch. He took her uninjured hand in both of his.
"If you listen to me, MJ... leave this. Leave all of this. Go far away. Go somewhere where there are no gangs, no guns, no masks. There is nothing here for you but death."
MJ looked at him in surprise. "Then what about you? Why do you stay, Edward?"
Edward laughed, a broken, hollow sound. "Because I can't run from this, even if I wanted to. It's not in my blood, MJ. It's in my chains."
Tears began to pool in his eyes. This was the Edward the world never saw the vulnerable boy trapped inside the monster's armor.
"You know the truth, MJ," he whispered. "My own Dad... Marcus. He isn't my biological father. He adopted me. Do you know why? Not for love. He needed an heir. He needed a dog that would bark and bite on command. He keeps me around only because he needs me."
A single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.
"The day that need ends, MJ, he won't hesitate to put a bullet in my head. I am not his son. I am his weapon. And when a weapon gets old or starts to malfunction, you replace it."
MJ's heart ached for him. She squeezed his hand. She was one of the few people who knew the real Edward. She knew about his sexuality, about the fact that he was gay and had to bury his true self deep underground to survive in this hyper-masculine, brutal world. Every day was a war against his own identity.
"Are you fine?" she asked gently.
Edward quickly wiped his face, composing himself. He stood up, the mask of the tough gangster sliding back into place.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he said, his voice steady again. "You rest. I'll go get you something to eat."
He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Left alone, MJ looked up at the ceiling. Her expression hardened. She clenched her fist.
Edward, you think you are alone. You think you are trapped. But you are wrong.
She thought about the secret mission Team Angelus was on. She thought about the dossier she had risked her life for tonight the one now in the hands of the Black Rose, though Edward didn't know that yet.
You didn't treat me like a stray dog, Edward. You treated me like a friend. And I promise you... one day I will break you out of this hell. I will get you out of this cage. You deserve better, and I will give you that life.
Outside in the corridor, Edward leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. He had no idea that downstairs, his "guest" had already signed his best friend's death warrant. The wheels of fate were turning, and the collision between love, obsession, and betrayal was about to destroy them all.