The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 390

Lord Moretti didn’t answer Alex.

He acted as if he hadn’t even seen him. With a flick of his hand, he declared, “Tonight’s business is over. Everyone out—unless you want to die here.”

The room froze. Customers turned pale.

Everyone knew the stories—when Lord Moretti cleared a club, it wasn’t just an order.

It was a warning. Too often, people left in body bags simply because they didn’t move fast enough.

The crowd broke into a rush, scrambling for the exits.

Panic echoed in their footsteps, every face certain Alex had just stepped into hell.

Within minutes, the place was empty. Surveillance cameras clicked off one by one, leaving nothing but silence and danger in the room.

In a corner, Mike and his friends huddled together, trembling. None dared move. They knew this had gone beyond a joke.

Lord Moretti turned toward his father.

“Father, leave this to me. What I’m about to do will be brutal, and I don’t want you to see the blood. Take the others and go.”

Leo’s face was tight with rage. “Son, he’s hit me more than once. Give him a lesson, son. I want one of his arms.”

“Of course, Father. Of course, ” Moretti replied, his eyes dark. “Now go.”

Leo sneered at Alex as he backed away. “My son is here now. You should be pissing yourself. You’ll see hell tonight.”

“Father, quickly—out!” Moretti barked, shoving him toward the door, afraid Alex might snap at any moment.

Mike and the others were already ashen, sweat dripping down their temples.

They all knew what it meant to be left alone with Lord Moretti—the man took pleasure in torment.

As he advanced, several of them fell to their knees.

“Lord Moretti, I did nothing wrong! Please, let me go!”

“We were only having fun! We didn’t know Mike was stirring up trouble!”

“Please, sir, forgive us. Take Mike’s arm if you must, but leave us out of it. We’ll even hold him down for you!” one added desperately.

Moretti’s voice cracked like a whip. “All of you—except Mike—get out!”

They hesitated, stunned. One stammered, “Are… are you sure, sir?”

Moretti’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning cold. “You know, maybe I should keep you here instead. Take all your arms together.”

Faces blanched to the color of death.

“Now get the hell out!”

They didn’t wait for another word. They bolted so fast they nearly tripped over each other, desperate to escape intact.

But as Mike made for the door, Moretti’s hand shot out like a snake, clamping around his wrist.

“You stay, Mike,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “We need to talk.”

Mike’s legs buckled. His scream tore through the silence. “Please! Please, Lord Moretti—I’m your lawyer! Don’t take my arm, I beg you!”

Mike’s friends had already bolted, leaving the grand nightclub stripped to silence and shadows.

What had been a lively night turned into an empty battlefield. Only three men remained—Lord Moretti, Alex, and Mike.

“You. Sit down,” Moretti ordered.

“Yes—yes,” Mike stammered, nodding frantically, his body trembling like a trapped rabbit.

Moretti turned to Alex and gave a slight bow. “Sir, I’ve secured Mike for you. You may question him here, or I can deliver him anywhere you wish.”

Mike’s jaw dropped. The man who feared no one, the butcher of the underworld—bowing?

To Alex? Something was horribly wrong.

“So I can’t access it now?” Alex asked, his tone like steel.

Mike shook his head. “No. Until all three approve, or… or until you’re dead. Only then will they release it to whoever kills you.”

Alex’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Gilbert never made things easy. Now—give me Charles Kingston’s number.”

Mike’s face blanched further.

He pulled out his phone with shaking hands. “Charles calls me always from different numbers. He never uses the same one.”

Alex snatched his smartphone and, with a swift motion, pressed it against Mike’s own phone, setting up a duplicate copy.

“Whenever Charles calls, keep him talking,” Alex ordered, his voice sharp as a blade.

“The longer the call, the easier it’ll be for me to trace him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Mike whispered, nodding quickly.

Meanwhile—thousands of miles away—Charles Kingston’s private jet touched down on one of the largest estates in the country.

A decorated general stepped forward to meet him.

“Sir. Logan,” Charles said, shaking his hand firmly. “I know you’ve admired my sister for a long time. I’ve come to approve your marriage with her.”

Logan let out a booming laugh. “Good! Good! I’ve long admired her beauty, but never thought this day would come.”

“But you should know,” Charles warned quietly, “my father may not agree.”

“Alfred Kingston?” Logan scoffed. “If I demand to marry Jasmine, he won’t refuse. He knows I could crush his state whenever I please.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. “And what of the King?”

Logan’s grin widened, fierce and unshakable. “Even the King won’t touch me. I command the largest military reserve in the country.”