CHAPTER 160: BURGER!!

Miles’ voice was flat but every word carried ice.

"Hey, Russ. Put that gun down."

Russ’ hand trembled on the pistol. "I told you to stop—"

Miles didn’t move. He watched the man, the way fear had already hollowed him out. "Just think, Russ. Why are you doing this? For money? Really." He let each word land. "You know what happens if you hurt that little girl. I will break your bones one by one until you scream. This shipyard will remember your screams for decades."

The room seemed to inhale and hold itself there — stunned, waiting.

"You forced me to say it in front of a kid," Miles went on, voice colder now. "That’s one more sin you’ve committed."

Russ shook, sweat beading along his temple. "You— I’m not bluffing. I’ll kill her."

Miles tapped his fingers against his thigh, almost bored. "You gave me no choice." Then, low and precise: "You have a wife and a five-year-old in Italy, right?"

Russ stuttered, the gun rocking in his grip. "What— how do you—"

"I heard she works in a government office there," Miles said. "Funny, isn’t it? Wife a law protector, husband a gang leader."

Russ’ face went white. He swallowed. "So what?"

"My men in Italy are outside her office," Miles said. "And your boy is right now in the park with his nanny."

The movement in Russ’ hands betrayed him — the gun wavering, the bravado cracking. "No— please, don’t do anything to them."

Miles’ voice was almost gentle. "Drop the gun."

For a moment Russ froze, a man split between terror and pride. Then Miles barked, "I said, drop the gun."

The pistol clattered to the concrete. The sound felt enormous in the small workshop.

Miles stepped forward, all of the threat gone from his face and replaced by something quieter — contempt. He glanced at Stella, still tied, eyes red and raw.

"Close your eyes, dear," he said.

Stella shut them stiffly.

Miles’ hand came up like a snapped twig. The slap echoed across the yard, sharp, final. Russ folded to his knees as if pulled by a string, stunned by the speed of it. There was no theatrics to it, only consequence.

Miles moved to the ropes. He worked them loose with calm, practiced fingers. The binds gave way. Stella slid free and, without a second thought, threw her arms around him.

"Thank you, brother," she sobbed, voice of a broken thing.

Miles gathered her in one arm and stood. He didn’t look back at Russ until they reached the doorway. Russ’s voice clawed after them. "Wait! My wife— my kid—"

Miles stopped, turned, and for a moment the chill in his smile was almost casual. "They’re safe," he said. "My men were never there... they’re safe." He said it plainly, because the terror that had rolled through Russ a beat before needed no embellishment.

A tiny smile flickered on Stella’s face as if she’d been handed back a fragile piece of the world. She peered up at Miles with that brave, small courage children learn in impossible places.

"You are strong, Stella," he told her, softening. "Let’s go. Hope is waiting for you."

"My dad..." she whispered, the question edged with leftover fear.

Miles set her on her feet, meeting her eyes. "He’s busy with something important. He’ll come by tonight. He sent me to pick you up." His lie was a necessary stitch; she took it, because children need anchors.

He led her out a different way so she wouldn’t see the wreck he’d left inside — the bodies, the broken men, the mess of a world Russ had tried to run. They stepped toward the car parked where the shadow swallowed the yard.

Miles buckled Stella into the back seat, clicked her belt with a casual motion that belied the storm he’d walked through. He slid into the driver’s seat and hit his phone.

"Monica," he said as soon as she answered.

"Congratulations, boss," she replied, light and efficient. "I hope she’s all right."

"She’s fine. I made quite a mess down there," Miles admitted.

"Don’t worry. I’ll clean it up," Monica said. There was a beat and then — news, fast and steady. "We captured the team sent from Venus Foods HQ. They’re giving statements to Chief Sam now. And bail for Liam was approved by the court. He’s coming out soon."

Miles let the information settle in. He looked at Stella in the rearview.

"Good," he said.

"Drive safe."

The call ended. Miles started the engine. The car purred into life, He steered toward the twins’ school, the city folding around them — ordinary, oblivious, the way it always does.

"Stella," he said, watching her buckle down into the seatbelt now, "whatever happened today stays between us, okay?"

She nodded without hesitation, eyes wide and solemn. "Okay, brother."

Miles eased the car into traffic, the day moving with him. The smell of salt and engine oil. He drove on, hands steady on the wheel.

The car rolled to a stop outside the school gates, where Hope and Asher were already waiting with their small backpacks hanging loosely from their shoulders.

As soon as they spotted the familiar black car, Hope waved wildly, jumping on her toes.

Miles stepped out, smiling faintly as both the twins ran toward him. He crouched down to take their bags.

"Easy, soldiers," he said, ruffling Asher’s hair.

Then Hope froze. Her eyes drifted past Miles — to the little girl standing shyly behind him.

"Stella!" she gasped, voice bright with surprise and relief.

In an instant, Hope sprinted over and grabbed both of Stella’s hands.

"I’m sorry," Hope blurted, her eyes glistening with guilt. "I forgot to show you my toy that day! Are you upset with me?"

For a moment, Stella didn’t know what to say. She looked up at Miles — who gave her a gentle nod — then turned back to Hope. A small, warm smile tugged at her lips.

"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "I’m not upset."

Hope’s face lit up with a grin so wide it almost erased the past two days’ shadows.

"Then come with us!"

Miles chuckled, slipping the kids’ bags into the trunk. "Alright, who wants a burger?"

Asher shot his hand up immediately. "Me, big bro!"

Hope followed, raising both hands. "Us too!"

"Then it’s settled."

Miles opened the passenger door, letting Asher hop in beside him. Both the girls climbed into the back seat, whispering and giggling already — like everything was back to normal again.

As the car eased into the traffic, heading toward the Star Central Mall, the sound of laughter filled the cabin. Hope and Asher were competing over who could tell a story faster, talking about their day at school — Hope’s art class, Asher’s football practice, how the teacher slipped and everyone laughed.

Stella listened quietly at first, then began to join in. Within minutes, she was laughing too — small, genuine laughs that came from the kind of comfort only children could create for each other.

Miles glanced at the rearview mirror. Seeing her smile again eased something in his chest, but his mind didn’t rest. He knew what she’d been through. He knew the weight that could linger after a night like that — the kind of memories that creep back in silence, when the lights are off and the world goes still.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

I’ll tell her father to get her help, he thought. No child should have to carry that.

The car turned toward the mall’s wide entrance, where the people were walking in and out.

Miles let the moment be what it was — three children laughing in the back seat, sunlight flickering through the windshield, and a rare peace he couldn’t afford to break.

The group walked through the glimmering halls of Star Central Mall — sunlight spilling through the glass ceiling, reflecting off polished floors.

Miles strolled calmly, one hand in his pocket, the other lightly holding Hope’s shoulder so she wouldn’t dart too far ahead. Asher bounced on his heels, full of energy, and Stella walked quietly beside them, eyes wide at the size of the place.

The mall’s private security, dressed in their navy blazers, stiffened the moment they spotted him. Earpieces flickered with soft chatter. Subtle nods were exchanged. Everyone knew who had just entered — the man who owned half the security contracts for the district.

A few officers straightened their posture immediately. Cameras subtly shifted.

At the same time, several female staff at the boutique entrances couldn’t help smiling at the sight — the man in a dark suit walking with three kids, the one of them holding onto his sleeve.

One of them bowed politely as the group passed, whispering a quiet "Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling."

Miles gave a brief nod, acknowledging her without breaking stride.

Behind him, the twins were whispering.

"Big broo," Asher said, eyes curious. "Why did that lady bow to you? Do you know her?"

Miles chuckled under his breath. "I know everyone here."

"Everyone?" Asher’s eyes widened.

Miles smiled, lowering his voice. "You can say that."

Hope, skipping beside him, looked up at her brother. "Woah, big broo! You have so many friends."

Miles grinned at her enthusiasm. "Maybe too many," he teased softly.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor — the food court spreading before them, alive with chatter and music. The smell of fries, grilled patties, and freshly baked buns filled the air.

Asher pointed excitedly. "Big broo! There it is!"

Their favorite burger joint — Harbor Bites, glowing in warm yellow light — stood near the corner, just as crowded as always.

Miles smiled, letting them run ahead a few steps. "Alright, soldiers," he said, hands in his pockets. "Let’s eat."

And as they headed toward the counter, every guard and staff member subtly kept their distance — alert, watchful, but smiling. Because, their boss didn’t look like the most powerful man in the city.

He just looked like an older brother taking three kids out for burgers.