CHAPTER 205: CHAPTER 205

The driveway was long, flanked with trimmed hedges and stone statues, but not a single soul was in sight. No patrols. No house staff. No sensors blinking. It was as if the house itself was holding its breath.

But they didn’t hesitate.

They moved like shadows, their boots soft against the stone path as they advanced toward the grand entrance. Despite the calm silence around them, they didn’t let their guard down.

Not long after the three Circle members arrived at the massive front entrance—an elegant double door crafted from dark mahogany with silver etchings that gleamed in the fading light—they reached out, ready to test the handle, perhaps force their way in.

But before they could touch it, the doors creaked open on their own.

And there he was.

Raymond.

He stepped into view like a shadow walking out of light, his presence calm but coiled, like a lion that had just been stirred awake. He didn’t say a word at first. His sharp, unreadable eyes scanned the three of them slowly—one by one—memorizing their faces, their posture, the subtle tension in their limbs. He took his time.

The men, all dressed in black, momentarily froze.

They hadn’t expected this.

The man they’d heard whispers about... was standing right in front of them, no guards, No hesitation.

Just him.

"Well," the eldest of the Circle members said, forcing a small smirk. "Didn’t expect anyone to be home. But this makes things easier."

Raymond tilted his head, still silent.

"We’re looking for someone," another added. "Valentina. Goes by that name. Lives here, doesn’t she?"

There was no fear in their voice. But there was something else—curiosity. Arrogance. Perhaps even the assumption that Raymond was just another rich man playing dress-up in a fortress of wealth.

Raymond’s gaze flicked to the man who had spoken. then he smiled, It wasn’t warm.

It wasn’t welcoming, It was the kind of smile a wolf gives before it pounces.

"You’re looking for Valentina?" he asked, voice smooth, deep.

The three nodded. The youngest of them cracked his knuckles impatiently. "Yeah. Bring her out. We need to have a word with her."

Raymond’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

Then he stepped back, and with a simple gesture of his hand, he replied—calm, unbothered, deadly:

"Wait here."

"I’ll go bring her out myself."

He stepped aside.

The moment Raymond stepped aside and turned toward the hallway, the three men exchanged glances and gave a slow, mocking nod. The one with the scar leaned forward slightly and sneered, "Good boy."

As if on cue, they each pulled back the edges of their coats just enough to reveal the black steel of their holstered guns—subtle, but deliberate. A silent threat cloaked in false courtesy.

"Go on then," the eldest said with a twisted grin. "Run along."

They followed behind him with slow, confident steps, like hunters moving in on a cornered animal.

But Raymond wasn’t rushing.

He walked ahead calmly, the heavy silence of the house swallowing their footsteps. The hallway stretched forward, lined with faint wall sconces that cast long shadows along the marble floor. At the halfway point, Raymond abruptly stopped.

The three men tensed, watching his back, then he turned, slowly, and faced them.

His expression had shifted still calm, but now there was a coldness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"Are you going to hurt her?" he asked, his voice low and direct.

The question hung in the air like a blade, and for a beat, none of them responded.

Then the eldest shrugged with a smirk. "That depends on you."

"No promises," the scarred one added. "We don’t assure anything."

Raymond nodded slowly, as if weighing their words.

"So..." he said, his tone sharpening, "you want to hurt her."

His voice was still soft

but this time, it carried something beneath it.

Steel, They didn’t reply.

But the tension between them crackled like dry leaves catching fire.

Then, suddenly, the youngest one stepped forward, raising his voice in frustration. "Are you playing with us?!"

He snapped his gun free from its holster, the click of the safety loud in the silence.

"What the hell is wrong with you, huh? If you’re not careful, I’ll shoot you right here!"

At that moment, Raymond didn’t flinch, he didn’t step back.

He didn’t even blink.

Instead, a small smile began to tug at the corner of his lips slow, deliberate, unsettling.

It wasn’t the smile of a man who was afraid,It was the smile of a man who had just been handed permission to stop pretending.

"You’ve made the biggest mistake of your lives," he said, voice low and unhurried, the smile never leaving his face. "Coming here... to my home... giving me orders."

He chuckled lightly, and the sound didn’t belong in that room. It was far too calm.

"Tell me," he continued, taking a slow step forward. "Who do you think you are?"

The silence that followed was tense.

The three men glanced at one another, their faces flickering with confusion just for a second. There was something about this man’s confidence, his stillness, his tone... it didn’t feel like someone outmatched. It didn’t feel like someone about to surrender.

The man with the scar, visibly irritated, stepped forward and growled, "You must not know who you’re talking to."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver pendant engraved with an ancient symbol the unmistakable mark of the Circle.

"We are the Circle," he said, his voice heavy with authority. "The ones people whisper about. The ones your kind fears in the dark. The ones that decide who gets to breathe another day."

He took one step closer. "You’ve just walked into something you don’t understand. And we’re not repeating ourselves again."

Then, leaning forward just slightly, his tone darkened.

"Lead the way... or we’ll kill you right here."

Raymond’s smile widened but it wasn’t one of humor. It was cold. Sharp. Like a blade hidden beneath velvet. His gaze never left theirs, and the air around him began to change. Not in temperature, not in sound, but in weight.

It grew heavier, Thicker.

More dangerous, He raised his head just slightly, his voice now colder than ice.

"I didn’t want to do this," he said, calm and slow, each word deliberate. "But you’ve left me with no other choice... than to kill you all."

The three men tensed, watching him carefully.

"You don’t walk into my house... and threaten my wife..." Raymond continued, his voice growing firmer. "Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t get to talk nonsense here."

At that moment, his eyes changed.

They darkened literally.

The sharp brown hue that once made him look human melted into something far more terrifying. A deep, endless black, with a faint red flicker glowing at the core like burning embers.

The three Circle members instinctively stepped back.

"What the hell..." the younger one muttered.

But it was too late for hesitation, Raymond was no longer pretending.

He stood there, composed and terrifying, a silent storm in human form.

The Circle still didn’t understand what they were up against. They hadn’t fought men like this before because men like this weren’t supposed to exist.

But still, bound by their pride and arrogance, they moved.

Weapons drawn.

The moment their weapons left their holsters, the tension snapped like a live wire.

Three triggers were squeezed in perfect sync—muzzle flashes burst like angry fireflies in the dim light of the hallway. The thunder of gunshots echoed through the mansion, but Raymond was no longer standing where they aimed.

He was gone.

A blur, a shadow that vanished with an inhuman hiss of air.

Bullets tore into the walls, shattering fine art and carving into stone, but not a single one found flesh.

Before the youngest of the Circle could blink, Raymond was behind him, a whisper in the wind.

He grabbed the man’s wrist mid-trigger, bones shattering like twigs beneath Raymond’s crushing grip. The scream barely left the man’s mouth before Raymond slammed his knee upward into his ribs with brutal force—ribs cracked, breath stolen. Then, with a vicious twist, Raymond spun him around and hurled his body straight through a marble column. The impact crushed the man’s spine against the wall behind it, and he slumped to the floor, motionless.

The second Circle member raised his weapon, eyes wide, now understanding this wasn’t a man. This wasn’t even human.

Raymond didn’t give him the luxury of fear.

He moved again—blinding speed—one second standing still, the next right in front of his enemy.

The gun fired, Point blank.

Raymond tilted his head ever so slightly. The bullet grazed his cheek just enough to anger him.

Then his hand snapped forward and grabbed the gun, crushing the barrel with one hand like it was made of foil. His other hand reached out, seizing the man’s throat. Lifting him off the floor effortlessly, Raymond held him there, watching as the man clawed at his wrist, kicking wildly.

"I warned you," Raymond said coldly. "But you chose death."