Aiden Knight's POV
Elder Kane circles me like a predator sizing up prey. His aged face wears the serene expression of a monk, but his eyes burn with the cold fire of someone who has killed more men than he can count.
"Last chance, boy," he says conversationally. "Kneel now, and I'll make this quick."
I push back from the table and stand, wiping my mouth with the linen napkin. "You talk too much, old man."
The insult hits him like a physical blow. His composed mask slips for just an instant, revealing the killer underneath. Around us, the crowd presses even further back against the walls. Someone whimpers.
Elder Kane settles into a combat stance I recognize from ancient texts. Tiger Fist style, refined over decades of practice. His breathing slows, centering himself for the attack.
"Forty years," he murmurs. "Forty years I've studied the martial way. Do you know how many young fools like you I've put in the ground?"
"Not enough, apparently." I roll my shoulders, loosening muscles that haven't felt challenged in months. "Since you're still here, boring me with your life story."
His control snaps. Elder Kane explodes forward with shocking speed for a man his age. His fist cuts through the air aimed at my throat, the strike carrying enough force to crush a man's windpipe.
I catch his wrist an inch from my neck.
The impact reverberates through the ballroom like a gunshot. Elder Kane's eyes widen in disbelief as his killing blow stops dead against my casual grip.
"Impossible," he breathes.
I smile. "Your turn's over."
My palm strike hits his chest with the sound of thunder. Elder Kane's feet leave the ground as he hurtles backward through the air. He crashes into the marble pillar with bone-crushing force, spiderweb cracks radiating outward from the impact point.
He slides down the column and crumples to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. His breathing comes in shallow gasps as he struggles to remain conscious.
The silence stretches like a taut wire ready to snap. Every eye in the ballroom stares at me in naked terror. These people have just watched me casually destroy a legendary martial artist with a single blow.
Oscar Graves stands frozen, his face cycling through shock, disbelief, and dawning horror. Beside him, Leo makes a strangled sound and takes an involuntary step backward.
"Anyone else want to test me?" My voice carries easily across the silent room.
No one moves. No one even seems to be breathing.
I turn to Oscar, studying his granite features with cold amusement. "Now then. Where were we? Oh yes. You were threatening me."
Oscar's mouth works soundlessly. All his bluster, all his threats, evaporate in the face of what I've just demonstrated. For the first time in decades, Oscar Graves doesn't know what to say.
"I believe you mentioned something about making my death take a very long time," I continue conversationally. "Care to elaborate?"
"You..." Oscar's voice comes out as a croak. He clears his throat and tries again. "What are you?"
"I'm the man your family tried to destroy five years ago." I take a step toward him, and he actually flinches. "I'm the ghost you thought you'd buried at Cloud Lake Manor."
Recognition flickers in his black eyes. "Steele. You're one of the Steele family."
"The last one." Another step. "Thanks to you and your allies."
Oscar's face goes ashen. The Steele family massacre was supposed to be a secret, but clearly the major families all knew the truth. They'd thought every witness was dead.
They were wrong.
"That was business," Oscar says quickly. "Nothing personal. Your family got in the way of certain interests."
"My parents. My little sister. My grandparents." My voice remains perfectly calm, but something in it makes several guests edge toward the exits. "You murdered children. Tell me how that was just business."
Oscar straightens, trying to reclaim some of his authority. "That was five years ago. You survived. Move on. Make a new life for yourself."
I laugh, and the sound makes everyone in the room shudder. "Oh, I did make a new life. I spent five years training. Learning. Preparing for this moment."
"What do you want?" Oscar's businessman instincts kick in. "Money? I'll pay you whatever the Steele fortune was worth. Double it."
"I want what's owed." I'm close enough now to reach out and touch him. "I want justice for my family."
Oscar glances around desperately, looking for allies, for help, for anything that might save him. But his bodyguards are groaning on the floor. Elder Kane is barely conscious. Even his own son has backed away from him.
"Leo," Oscar barks. "Get over here. Now."
Leo shakes his head frantically. "Father, I..."
"NOW!"
Leo shuffles forward on unsteady legs, staying as far from me as possible. His face is pale with terror, sweat beading on his forehead despite the room's chill.
I look at the pathetic creature and feel only disgust. "This is what the mighty Graves family has become? Cowards and weaklings?"
"You're making a mistake," Oscar tries one last time. "I have connections. Powerful friends. You can't just..."
"Can't what?" I interrupt. "Can't hold you accountable for mass murder? Can't make you pay for what you've done?"
I reach out with one hand toward Oscar's shoulder. He tries to step back, but there's nowhere to go. My fingers don't even touch him before an invisible force slams into his chest.
Oscar Graves, patriarch of one of Everbrook City's most powerful families, crashes to his knees before me.
The impact echoes through the ballroom like a judge's gavel. Gasps and cries ripple through the crowd as they witness something that should be impossible. A man forced to kneel without being touched.
Oscar tries to stand, his face purple with rage and humiliation. But every time he attempts to rise, that invisible pressure drives him back down. His expensive suit tears as he struggles against a force beyond his comprehension.
"Stay down," I command quietly.
The authority in my voice is absolute. Oscar's struggles cease as if his strings have been cut. He kneels there, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face.
"This is impossible," someone whispers.
"He's not even touching him," another voice adds in amazement.
I look down at the kneeling patriarch with cold satisfaction. "How does it feel, Oscar? To be powerless? To be at someone else's mercy?"
"Please," Oscar gasps. "Whatever you want..."
"I want you to remember this moment," I tell him. "Remember what it feels like to kneel before your betters. Remember that your family's crimes have consequences."
Chloe appears at my side, her face pale with shock. "Aiden," she whispers urgently. "We need to leave. Now."
"In a moment." I lean down toward Oscar's ear. "Your son forced a woman to drink from his contaminated glass tonight. That woman is under my protection. If he ever comes near her again..."
"He won't," Oscar says quickly. "I swear it."
"Good." I straighten up. "Because next time, I won't be so merciful."
Leo chooses that moment to find his voice. "Father, we can't let him..."
"Shut up," Oscar snarls at his son. "Just shut up."
I smile at the family dynamics playing out before me. "Smart man. You should listen to your father, Leo. He understands the new reality."
Chloe tugs at my arm. "Aiden, please. Let's go."
I'm about to agree when the ballroom's main doors explode inward for the second time tonight. But instead of more bodyguards, a dozen police officers pour through the entrance, their weapons drawn and ready.
"Nobody move!" The lead officer, a hard-faced man with sergeant's stripes, sweeps his pistol across the room. "Everbrook City Police!"
Behind him, more officers fan out, covering every exit. Their weapons are trained on the crowd, fingers on triggers, faces grim with professional intensity.
The sergeant's eyes take in the scene. Bodyguards groaning on the floor. Elder Kane barely conscious against the pillar. Oscar Graves kneeling in the center of the room like a penitent before an altar.
His gaze settles on me with laser focus.
"You," he barks. "Hands where I can see them."
I raise my hands slowly, keeping my movements calm and controlled. "Is there a problem, officer?"
"We got reports of an assault in progress. Multiple casualties." His weapon never wavers from my chest. "You're going to get down on your knees with your hands behind your head. Do it now, or I'll put you down where you stand."