The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 316

The next morning, sunlight splashed through the cracked windows as Alex unlocked the door to his clinic.

His eyes narrowed sharply at the sight—a battered, bloodied figure sprawled unconscious at his doorstep.

Alex's pulse quickened as he knelt beside the man, turning him over gently, only to stare in disbelief.

"Jaxon Creed?" Alex muttered, astonishment darkening his features. "What the hell happened to you?"

He studied the bruised face, swollen and marred with fresh wounds.

Jaxon Creed, the top knight from Chicago—this was no ordinary beatdown.

With cautious strength, Alex hoisted Jaxon over his shoulder and carried him carefully inside, laying him on the examination bed.

As Alex assessed the injuries, his trained eyes hardened—gunshot wounds, shattered bones, nerve damage so severe it made his stomach twist.

Whoever did this wanted Jaxon crippled for life or dead.

Alex drew a deep breath, determination steadying his hands. Healing this man would take time, but he trusted his skills to mend even the deepest wounds.

He administered a swift injection, followed by a miracle pill.

Minutes ticked by until finally, with a groan of agony, Jaxon’s eyelids fluttered open. His gaze wandered hazily until settling on Alex.

"You’re awake," Alex said gruffly. "How do you feel?"

Jaxon blinked, dazed. "I feel terrible... Did you save me?"

Alex crossed his arms. "You see anyone else here?" he replied, dryly, hiding the relief in his eyes.

Jaxon tried to sit up, a flash of pain forcing a hiss through clenched teeth.

"Thank you," he muttered earnestly, struggling to bow his head.

"Stay put," Alex snapped firmly, pressing him back onto the bed. "You’re barely holding together."

Jaxon’s eyes darkened, shame and frustration fighting across his battered face.

Alex crossed his arms, curiosity biting at him. "You're a tough. Who could’ve broken you this badly?"

Jaxon stared at the ceiling, jaw tightening with silent torment. Finally, he swallowed the humiliation and spoke quietly, each word dragged from his throat.

"I came looking for you," he admitted, voice raw with effort.

Alex raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Why?"

Jaxon drew a shaky breath. “Last night, the Chicago lords laid it all out—they're targeting Vancouver next week. I told them no. Joining them would’ve made me a coward.”

Silence hung heavy between them before Jaxon locked eyes with Alex, his voice low but firm.

“You’re the strongest fighter I’ve ever gone up against. I want you to train me.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Do you even know who I am?” He remembered slipping into the janitor’s disguise to face Jaxon.

“I got the arena’s security footage,” Jaxon admitted.

“I saw you sneak into the staff bathroom and change into that janitor uniform. I erased the files. I’m not here to expose you—I’m here because I need to learn, and I’m hoping you’ll say yes.”

Alex didn’t speak, the silence heavy and meaningful.

Jaxon continued bitterly, "They found out I wanted to meet you and warn you, so they hunted me down. Nearly finished me off. Managed to lose them just long enough to reach you."

Alex’s jaw tightened, "What's their plan?"

Jaxon's words dropped heavily, chilling the air. "A nuclear strike. They’ll force the other three lords into a full-scale war with Vancouver."

Alex felt a rush of anger surge beneath his calm exterior, yet his voice stayed level. "Rest first. We'll talk once you’re healed."

Jaxon’s expression crumbled, despair gripping his bruised features. "My bones, nerves—everything is wrecked. I’ll never fight again."

Alex leaned forward, eyes hard with quiet conviction. "Don't worry. I'll rebuild you stronger than ever."

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