The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 425

The shot tore through Alfred’s shoulder. He folded, a raw sound ripping from his chest.

Jessica’s scream tore through the air, raw and panicked, her eyes locked on her husband as crimson spread across his shirt like wildfire.

“How dare you shoot him? He’s Jasmine Kingston’s father—Governor of Los Angeles.”

The guard’s lip curled. He fired again into Alfred’s other shoulder without hesitation. “Tell me I don’t have the nerve,” he said.

“Say it, and I’ll keep firing until he’s dead. The only reason I haven’t killed you both is because you’re a governor’s family,” he added coldly. “Otherwise you’d already be dead.”

Jessica’s face went white with fury and shame.

“How dare you!” she spat, lunging at the guard with flailing arms.

The guard didn’t hesitate. He fired into Jessica’s arms and both thighs. She collapsed, limbs useless, a scream tearing from her throat.

“I told you—don’t move.”

“You shot a woman?” Alfred gasped through the intake of pain.

“What? Not agree? Then I’ll shoot a man,” the guard said, and emptied his pistol into Alfred’s arms and both knees.

"I heard you order your general to move the troops and shoot innocent people — you should feel that pain too."

Alfred moaned, pain ripping through him as he crumpled to the floor.

“You’ll die for this!” he roared, voice raw and broken. “I’m the governor—Los Angeles, Vancouver—who the hell do you think you are? You’ll answer for this. Mark my words: your whole family will die!”

The guard stepped close, calm as a judge. He intoned, almost chanting, “Only to the True Source do I bow. I fear neither gods nor demons.”

He slapped Alfred hard across the face.

The crack of the blow snapped something awake inside Alfred—an oath remembered from his first Kingswell initiation.

“You—” Alfred stammered, raw panic blooming. “You’re with the Kingswell.”

The guard drove a fist into Alfred’s nose. Bone splintered; blood poured down his lip.

“The king sends a message,” the guard hissed.

“How dare you strike Jasmine until her throat nearly broke. If you kill her, the Kingston line—three generations up and down—will be erased.”

“You and your family only live because Jasmine lives,” he said, hammering Alfred’s face again.

“Who do you think you are, acting like this? If the king wants you gone, you and Logan can be killed at any moment. You’re not mighty. You’re nothing.”

The guard’s slap cracked like a board. Alfred’s front teeth shattered and rained down across his bleeding lip.

“Next time, you ungrateful bastard,” the guard spat, pressing his boot into Alfred’s face.

“Learn gratitude. Keep that arrogant face hidden. And if anything happens to Jessica again, you won’t live to regret it—you’ll be dead.”

Alfred was a wreck of pain and disbelief.

His head buzzed from the blows. Ambition and defiance—every plan to defy the king—drowned under the roar of agony and the sting of humiliation.

He’d forgotten, for a breath, the reach of the king.

The king ruled the whole country; his reach swallowed governors and courts alike. He could erase Alfred and Logan with a flick—had the means to end them a dozen times over.

Alfred had fancied himself clever enough to outmaneuver a throne. Now he felt exposed, small as a mouse beneath a boot. Mercy, he realized, had been a trap dressed as kindness.

The guard leaned close, voice low and hard as stone. “Remember to be humble if you want to survive, Alfred Kingston. You are nowhere near as big as you think when you stand before the king.”

The guard’s boot smashed Alfred’s face into the dirt with a force that could have crushed his skull.

Alfred felt the world narrow—breath shallow, pain flaring—and knew if he didn’t act now, he’d be dead.

“I… I’m sorry,” Alfred croaked at last.

The guard landed one last kick, then stepped back. “Doctor — take them to the hospital. The king has warned; let this be their final lesson. If they don’t learn, there’ll be no place left for them on this earth.”

Charles Kingston, watching not far off, felt the ground shift beneath him.

They had lost Los Angeles. Vancouver no longer held a place for them either. He had watched his father fall—watched power collapse in the span of minutes.

‘When calamity comes, it comes like thunder.’

He had to disappear before the search for the Kingstons began.

Meanwhile, across the states, Keaton Knight dropped to one knee before Alex, his face set like carved granite, every line etched with loyalty and resolve.

“Young master,” he said. “I apologize for my daughter’s actions. My line has served the Majestic for generations. We honor that oath. We will not betray it.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Knight,” Alex said. “Kelly is like a sister to me. She’s free to act, and I won’t hold a grudge.”

“Thank you, young master,” Keaton answered, relief barely under the surface.

Alex let out a long breath. “My mother and father are still missing. The Kingswell operatives in the neighboring countries are digging for answers. I need someone I trust to hold this country steady—use it as a base to reach others. Can you do that?”

“Sir, your will is my command,” Keaton said, rising.

“Then take Los Angeles,” Alex ordered. “Raise it. Keep the peace. I’ll move to the level I need to cross into other countries soon.”

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