The seven black-clad figures stepped through the towering wrought-iron gates of Kai's estate just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and dying golds.
The house—more fortress than home—rose like a modern obsidian monolith against the darkening sky. Three stories of smoked glass, polished black marble, and sharp geometric angles. No warm lights spilled from the windows; instead, cold blue-white LEDs traced the edges of every floor like surgical incisions.
A private helipad crouched on the roof. Underground garages held matte-black hypercars worth more than most small countries' GDPs. Manicured grounds stretched for acres, but nothing living dared grow too close to the house itself—only razor-trimmed hedges and black river stones.
Inside, the air was perpetually cool, scented faintly with expensive leather, oud, and gun oil.
They entered the main living level through a fifteen-foot double door of blackened steel. The central space opened into a cavernous lounge that could have swallowed a nightclub whole.
Low, sprawling modular sofas in midnight velvet and carbon-fiber frames dominated the room, arranged in loose, predatory semicircles around a massive sunken firepit that burned with colorless blue flames.
A sixty-foot wall of one-way glass overlooked the city lights far below. Crystal decanters glinted on a backlit obsidian bar. Hidden speakers played something low and bass-heavy, more pulse than music.
Kai moved first—fluid, deliberate—shedding his black coat and dropping it across the back of the longest sofa. He didn't sit. He stood in the center of the room like a blade planted upright, scanning every shadow, every brother, every exit. Always assessing. Always first to map the battlefield, even in his own house.
The others flowed in behind him with looser energy.
Lucas threw himself onto the largest sectional, legs sprawled wide, already reaching for the decanter.
Damon glided to the bar, pouring himself something dark amber without asking.
Leon dropped into an armchair, boots kicked up on the glass table, grinning like he'd just won a prize fight.
Victor leaned against the wall near the firepit, arms crossed, smirking at nothing in particular.
Ren sat on the mat, legs spreaded.
Vernon drifted to the far corner—back to the wall, arms loose at his sides, long dark hair still veiling half his face. He said nothing. He rarely did.
Kai spoke first, voice low and clipped.
"New shipment clears customs Friday. Three containers. Untraceable serials. We move them through the northern dock by Sunday. No mistakes."
A ripple of nods. Business was business.
Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.
"As for the school…" He let the word hang. "We own it now. Paperwork finalizes tomorrow. Full control. Curriculum. Staff. Security. Everything."
The room ignited.
Lucas let out a low whistle. "Fuck yes. Those halls are gonna look real pretty with our name on the deed."
Lucas let out a filthy chuckle, swirling his glass.
"Those school girls though… fuck. Sexy little things walking around in those uniforms."
Damon smirked against the window. "Virgins. Fresh. You can smell it on them."
Victor laughed low. "Best kind. Tight. Nervous. They squeal so pretty when you first push in."
Leon licked his lower lip. "Innocent types are the best. They break so sweetly. You can still smell the fear on them weeks later."
"Thinking about that second-floor bitch earlier… those tits bouncing while she cried? I'm half-hard just remembering."
Lucas grinned wide, adjusting himself blatantly through his pants.
Ren leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes glittering.
"Seriously. Better than any club rat or paid whore. Those girls still believe in romance and shit. Makes breaking them so much sweeter."
Victor exhaled through his nose, amused. "Who doesn't love virgin pussy? Untouched. You get to be the first thing that ruins them."
Laughter rolled through the room—dark, easy, hungry.
Kai said nothing. He simply scanned them: slow, deliberate, eyes like black ice moving from face to face.
Damon turned from the window, eyes glittering. "Yes. Untouched pussy, tight throat, that little whimper when you first push in—"
"Goddamn," Lucas groaned, palming himself through his pants without shame. "I'm getting hard right now just picturing the lineup. Fresh meat every semester."
They laughed—cruel, overlapping, hungry.
Vernon stayed silent in his corner. His jaw flexed once. That was all.
Kai let the noise roll for another moment, gaze sliding over each boy like a cold blade counting heartbeats.
Damon suggested,
" Kai, how about we go to the school and bring some girls to fuck?"
A chorus of eager yeses.
"Hell yeah—"
"Let's go tomorrow—"
"Pick the prettiest ones first—"
"Fuck the teachers too, they looked ready to piss themselves—"
Vernon's voice cut through, calm and flat.
"It won't be right."
The laughter died like someone flipped a switch.
He continued without raising his volume.
"They're still kids. High-school kids. If we start openly fucking students in the school environment, it draws attention. Investigators. Media. Even our kind of money can't bury everything forever. Not when it's this public."
Silence.
Then Leon snorted. "Bruh. You always spoil the fucking mood."
Damon rolled his eyes. "Here we go with Saint Vernon again."
Kai stared at Vernon for a long beat—unreadable.
Then he spoke.
"He's right."
The room froze.
"They are kids. Leave them."
Instant protest.
"Come on, Kai—"
"Just a few—"
"We'll be careful—"
Kai's voice dropped. Soft. Lethal.
"Shut up."
Instant quiet.
"Are you going to defy me?"
No one answered.
Kai tilted his head toward Vernon.
"Go home."
Vernon pushed off the wall without a word. Walked past them—boots silent on marble—and disappeared through the side door.
-----
The moment the doors closed, Damon muttered, "Why do you always listen to him more than us?"
Victor crossed his arms tighter. "Seriously. Every fucking time he opens his mouth you fold."
Lucas leaned forward. "He cockblocks us like it's his job."
Kai turned up slowly. His stare pinned each of them in turn. The room felt ten degrees colder.
"Because he's more useful than all of you combined."
They flinched.
"What can any of you do besides fuck girls and get drunk?" Kai continued, voice razor-edged. " He can kill anyone I ask . He does everything I ask him to. He resolves the matters when I am in serious trouble. He is the most handy. "
All five of the Krossvales felt really humiliated.
Kai added,
"Besides, he barely speaks— He rarely asks for anything. And you all keep blabbing all the time.
So I must listen to him."
No one argued.
"Now control your fucking dicks," Kai finished, voice like ice on steel. "And do what I ask. Go home."
------
In the hallway outside Kai's private wing, the five clustered, voices low.
Lucas lit a cigarette, exhaling hard.
"He's always nice with Vernon. And treat us like shit."
Victor snorted. "Because Kai is smart . He is strategic. Vernon's the strongest out of all of us. If he ever snapped for real, we'd be fucking paste on the wall."
Damon nodded grimly. "Wolf in chains, man. That's what he is. Kai keeps the leash tight for a reason."
Damon leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette, voice quieter than usual.
"Been that way since we were kids. Father saw it too. Beat that soft corner out of him over and over. "
Victor added,
"You are right. He's different than us. Always has been. Even when we were kids. Tough outside… but there's that soft fucking corner inside. Father tried to burn it out. Kai's still trying."
Leon exhaled a stream of smoke and said, "What if he blasts out one day?"
Ren laughed quietly, shaking his head.
"Doesn't matter. As long as Kai holds the leash, we stay fed."
Behind them, Kai stood alone watching them from the large glass wall. The towering glass wall reflected fractured light across his still figure. He did not move. He only watched. Through the clear pane, his gaze was sharp .
To be continued...