Chapter 6: Still Alive

“Let’s get started.”

A man in an elegant dark navy suit said calmly as his gaze scanned the room, his eyes lingered on the members of the group as they nodded at him with fear and respect in their eyes.

The living room of the Strata Syndicate estate was far from welcoming.

A massive, dimly lit space, filled with leather couches and a long table stacked with documents, and glasses of half-finished drinks.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that made even the most hardened criminals sit a little straighter.

The higher-ups of Strata were all here, the men and women who ran and manage most of the bars, casinos, underground rings and other such businesses.

Each of them had carved their own path through the city’s underworld, and none of them were strangers to bloodshed to reach the top.

At the head of the room sat Vincent Alaric, the Specter himself as he stood at six feet tall, lean but honed like the sharpest blade. His jet-black hair was slicked back effortlessly neat as piercing dark eyes conveyed unreadable sense of controlled chaos.

His presence alone was enough to keep the room in check. He didn’t need to raise his voice or slam his fists as his silence alone spoke louder than any threat.

The discussion started as soon as Vincent sat down.

When Nova entered the room after a couple of minutes, the meeting suddenly stopped. All the discussion died down as their gazes all went to him.

“What? Do I look more handsome today?” His brows lifted as he stood there with a blank expression.

Silence. Pure, deafening silence reigned the room as his remark fell on deaf ears.

Sensing the awkward scene he created, he casually cleared his throat and composed himself as if that would erase the moment from existence.

Without another word, he strode toward the only seat in the room. He sank into the chair with his arms crossed, wearing the most ‘I-don’t-care-at-all’ face he could muster… while inwardly cringing at himself.

Some of the older members gave him a brief glance with some concern about his mental health and some smirked with simply curiosity.

After all, he had been unconscious for two days maybe it affected him somehow.

Vincent’s gaze flicked to him for only a second before shifting back to the gathered men.

…..

The first half of the meeting was business as usual, updates on casinos, bars, and money flow. Some of the managers brought up issues on delayed payments, minor territory disputes, and settling debts with suppliers.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Vincent listened, cold and calculating, addressing each issue with swift decisions. Some got reassurances, others got clear ultimatums.

Then after the monthly reports, the discussion finally shifted.

“The Mad Hounds have been pushing harder,” one of the senior members spoke, his tone grim. “They’re not just picking fights anymore. They’re making moves not just us, but with other gangs and territories.”

“Four of our businesses got hit in the last two days,” another added. “And that’s just the ones we know about.”

Vincent nodded slowly. “They think we’re vulnerable.”

His tone was calm, but there was a weight behind it that made the room feel colder.

“The ambush on Nova,” another voice spoke, “was just the start of it.”

A heavy silence settled as it was the most anticipated topic. Some glanced at Nova, who remained relaxed in his seat, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Then a man at the far side of the room spoke up. “What’s our move? Surely, we have something.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Vincent’s gaze snapped to him. “We do have something for them…” the coldness in his voice was much noticeable.

Then a fraction of a second was all it took for the room’s atmosphere to shift.

Nova’s eyes narrowed slightly, recognizing the man.

Leo Carmine, the one managing the bar and underground fight pit the night of the ambush.

Vincent exhaled slowly, as soon as he stood up. In the blink of an eye, he crossed the room, and before anyone could react, his hand clamped around the man’s throat.

The room immediately froze. Some instantly stood up and some were bewildered.

The man choked, his feet leaving the ground as Vincent lifted him effortlessly. His fingers clawed at Vincent’s grip, his face turning red, veins bulging in his forehead.

“But first, we have to do something to you…” Vincent’s sharp ruthless voice echoed.

Nova exhaled, masking the shock inside him as he took in the scene unfolding before him. But unlike the others, who were rattled by Vincent’s threats, his shock came from something else.

His uncle had been at the front of the room, then in the blink of an eye he was already in the other side clutching the man’s throat. How the hell could a normal human move that fast?

"Guh...kgh!"

Nova’s confusion was shattered at the strained, choking sound.

The man clawed weakly at Vincent’s grip, his face turning red as he gasped out, "I’m sorry… They threatened them… my wife, my kid… They said if I didn't cooperate…"

"Speak!"

"I told them where Nova was!" Leo choked out, his body jerking. "Gurrrgh!"

Nova clenched his fists.

The room blurred, the voices fading to nothing but muffled static. His mind was no longer here, it was back there.

The cold pavement against his back.

The smell of his blood thick in the air.

The sharp, burning pain tearing through his chest, fading… slowly fading… into nothingness.

That was the worst part. Not the pain, not the struggle but the moment he stopped feeling anything at all.

That creeping numbness, the terrifying realization that there was no way back. His body had given up, and his mind… his mind had been swallowed whole by something vast and unknowable.

It hadn’t been peaceful. It hadn’t been a slow drift into sleep.

It had been ripping, pulling, tearing as if something had dragged him away from existence itself.

And now, sitting in that chair, alive when he shouldn’t be, watching Leo, a man he had known for years being thrashed in Vincent’s grasp, Nova felt something in him crack.

"They took them… my wife, my kids… They said if I didn't cooperate…"

Leo’s voice was hoarse, desperate. But Nova barely heard him.

Because in that moment, Leo’s trembling form flickered.

And he saw himself in his place.

Writhing. Gasping. Dying.

His breath hitched.

A deep, soul-crushing terror curled around his lungs, squeezing, suffocating. The weight of death pressed into his chest like a phantom bullet.

Then with a sickening crack.

Leo’s body went limp, and something inside Nova shattered.

Dead.

Leo was dead.

But so was he.

He had died.

The thought slammed into him like a force of a truck. He could feel it in his bones, in his very existence that he had died.

And yet here he was …alive.