Chapter 452/The End of the Game Rules

Chapter 452

Violet’s POV

I settled into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, carrying me smoothly down the road toward Morgan’s weapons warehouse.

Everything was unfolding far more seamlessly than I had planned. My children were finally under my roof, tucked away safely in the heart of my protection. Now came the moment to gather the remaining pieces of this broken puzzle bringing their fathers together to face the truth.

A dark, victorious smile curled my lips, and I whispered into the quiet cabin of the car, "Thomas... it’s just you left. Once I deal with you, my revenge will finally be complete."

I pulled up directly before the heavy metal entrance of the massive weapons warehouse. Stepping out with slow, calculated femininity, the eyes of armed men dressed in crisp black suits instantly tracked my every move. Before I could take three steps, one of the guards moved in to block my path, his face set in a stony, unyielding scowl.

"What are you doing here?!" he barked, resting a heavy hand on his holstered weapon. "Back off this is private property."

A harsh, authoritative voice echoed from the shadowed interior before I could even reply. "Let her through."

The guard immediately stepped aside, lowering his head.

James stepped into the light his signature blonde hair tousled, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine. The Snake. He had grown so much since I last saw him, his frame broader, his presence far more lethal.

I closed the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps, leaning in slightly with a teasing purr. "Hello, Snake."

James didn’t move a muscle, his expression remaining completely frozen. "What are you doing here?"

I let a seductive smile touch my lips, my eyes trailing over his features. "Did you miss me?"

A subtle twitch hit his jaw as he clenched his teeth, swallowing hard to force down his visible tension. "If Don Morgan sees you here, he will kill you!" he warned, his tone dropping an octave.

I played along, putting on a show of pure innocence as I took a slow step closer to him, forcing him to instinctively take a cautious step back. "And would you really let him kill me?"

Without waiting for his answer, I brushed past his shoulder and stepped straight into the vast warehouse.

My eyes landed on Morgan almost instantly. He was sitting on a carved wooden chair near the center of the room, looking over a crate of weapons.

As he raised his head and our eyes locked, his entire posture stiffened. He stood up in violent shock, as if every ounce of blood in his veins had turned to ice.

The years had certainly changed him, but the harsh, rugged handsome edge of his face had only deepened with time.

"Violet?!" he breathed out, his voice laced with utter disbelief.

"Morgan..." I cooed softly, my tone dripping with light amusement.

His brows pulled together in a harsh crease, his chest heaving as he demanded, "What the hell brought you here?"

I rested my hand casually on my hip, smiling with effortless ease. "I came to invite you to dinner."

A dry, bitter laugh burst from his throat as he shook his head. "Are you out of your mind?! After all these years, you show up to invite me to dinner?!"

I offered him a simple, calm nod. "Yes."

I turned back over my shoulder toward James, who was standing near the entrance watching us in tense silence. "And you, Snake... you’re coming with him too."

James’s mouth parted in complete outrage, his jaw dropping. "What?!"

Morgan erupted, his deep voice booming off the corrugated metal walls. "Violet... get the hell out of my warehouse and don’t ever come back!"

I tilted my head, putting on a hurt expression as I pouted slightly. "Is that any way to treat your guest, Morgan?"

His dark eyes flared with lethal hatred. "You are nothing but a treacherous snake!"

I turned back to James, waving my hand dismissively without looking at him. "Can you give us a moment alone, James?"

James hesitated for a second before silently retreating outside, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.

Once he was gone, I glided over to one of the open wooden crates resting nearby.

Morgan watched my movements with intense suspicion, his eyes narrowing as he took a step toward me. "What are you doing?"

I reached into the crate, my fingers curling around a sleek silver handgun. With smooth, expert precision, I slid a loaded magazine into the magwell until it clicked firmly into place. I raised my gaze to meet his, holding the weapon loosely in my hand.

"Do you remember?" I whispered softly.

The muscles in his face locked up, and he shook his head sharply, denying it before I could even elaborate. "I don’t remember a damn thing."

I let out a low, wicked chuckle. "Why are you so tense?"

"I’m not," he snapped defensively, his shoulders rigid.

I stepped toward him slowly, closing the gap between us until I could feel the radiating heat of his body. Raising my arm, I pressed the cold tip of the gun barrel directly against the left side of his chest.

"I carved a word right here for you with a scalpel, didn’t I, Morgan?" I murmured softly, my breath brushing against his jaw.

Silence stretched thick between us, his chest rising and falling heavily against the steel barrel.

"I wrote ’Blind’ on your flesh..." I whispered into the quiet room, my tone laced with venom. "...and sadly, you are still just as blind today as you were back then."

He grit his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw bulged with raw pain. "Yes... I was blind because I trusted a treacherous liar."

I let out a soft, airy laugh, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. "The last time you called me that word, you paid a very heavy price."

His expression fractured, a broken, defeated tone seeping into his voice. "Don’t worry, Violet... I’ve paid more than enough."

I took a full step away from him, lowering the gun to my side as I casually tossed out, "Thomas can walk."

His pupils dilated in horrific shock, his breath catching in his throat. "What?!"

I met his gaze with absolute, unshakable confidence. "Yes... which proves my point. You are completely blind to so many things."

He stared at me with deep suspicion, his tone laced with dark doubt. "And you knew about this?"

"Of course I knew," I replied smoothly.

He narrowed his eyes, searching every inch of my face for a slip. "Where the hell have you been all these years?"

"I was working," I answered with quiet mystery.

Curiosity flared in his eyes, though he tried desperately to mask it behind his harsh scowl. "What kind of work?"

I smirked at his sudden interest, tilting my head. "Why are you so curious, my dear Morgan?"

Realizing he had let his guard down, he instantly hardened his posture, throwing his chin up with cold arrogance. "I’m not curious at all."

I brought us right back to the original topic. "Are you coming to dinner?"

"No," he refused flatly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I tilted my head, holding my ground as I played my ultimate winning card. "And if I tell you that you will uncover a twenty-three-year-old secret... will you come then?"

His entire frame froze, his posture locking up entirely. "What secret?"

I gave him a playful, coy smile. "When you come tonight, you’ll find out."

He shot me a sharp, distrustful glare. "Is this another one of your sick games, Violet?"

I stepped right back into his personal space, leaning in until our breaths mingled in the tight gap between us. I brushed my lips against the shell of his ear and whispered, "Are you afraid of me, Morgan?"

"No... not a chance!" he denied frantically, his voice betraying his sudden panic.

My ears caught the rapid, frantic pounding against his ribs, and a triumphant smile spread across my face. "I can hear your heart hammering, Morgan..."

He took a quick, awkward step backward, desperately escaping my intoxicating proximity. "Get out!" he barked, his voice sharp to cover his unraveling composure.

"Bring James with you," I added, turning on my heel and gliding toward the exit.

He pulled his brows together in genuine confusion. "Why the hell do you want James there?"

I looked back over my shoulder, offering him a cryptic, beautiful smile. "Because he has a secret of his own one that’s just a few years younger than yours."

His scowl deepened with frustration. "What are you planning?!"

"You’ll see when you get there," I assured him softly.

I ran the smooth metallic slide of the silver handgun along the edge of my cheek, savoring the cool touch of the steel against my skin. "I like this weapon... I’m taking it with me."

Morgan let out a heavy, defeated sigh, throwing his hands up in sheer exhaustion. "Take it and just leave!"

I blew him a playful kiss before turning around completely. "I’m leaving... try not to stress yourself out too much before tonight."

I stepped out into the bright daylight to find James standing near the front gates like a loyal guard dog. I paused beside him, running my eyes over his rigid frame. "I’ll be expecting both you and Morgan this evening."

He looked at me in utter confusion. "And why on earth am I supposed to come?!"

I ignored his outburst, giving him the precise coordinates. "Manhattan... 65th Street."

Leaving him to drown in his own confusion, I walked over to my car. But just as I reached for the handle and unlocked the doors, the passenger side door was yanked open with violent force.

Morgan leaned over the threshold, his face practically burning with raw, uncontainable curiosity. "What the hell is the secret, Violet?!"

I smirked in complete victory, running my hands over the leather steering wheel. "My, my... aren’t you impatient?"

"Speak, Violet!" he yelled, his patience completely spent.

I started the engine, shifting the gear into drive as I looked over at him with a mischievous gleam in my eyes. "Follow me then you and James. I don’t think either of you has the patience to wait until tonight anyway!"

He shook his head in bitter, angry surrender, slamming his hand against the roof of the car. "Fine."