{One week after Angela's return from the club}
Angela stepped out of the college gates, a book tucked under her arm; Bond lines, a strange scientific take on the Alpha-Omega world and their fated bonds.
A black sedan rolled up.
Two masked figures stepped out.
No words. No hesitation.
One grabbed her arm, the other closed in from behind.
Her book slipped from her hand and hit the ground.
She tried to pull away, but they lifted her halfway off her feet, carrying her toward the open door of the sedan.
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs as the dark interior loomed closer.
As they dragged her toward the sedan, Angela barely had time to react-WHAM!
A single punch cut through the air and smashed into one man's face.
He stumbled, crumpling to the ground before he could even cry out.
The second grabbed for her arm-BAM!
A hard blow to the chest sent him reeling backwards, gasping for breath.
Angela froze.
That Aura was heavy and dangerous.
Yet...somehow, it didn't feel like a threat to her. Something in it reached under her skin, tugging in a way she couldn't explain.
The sedan's door slammed open.
Two more men jumped out, fists ready.
The masked figure didn't hesitate.
CRACK! A fist slammed into a jaw, sending one man sprawling.
THUD! A knee drove into the other's gut; he folded over, coughing violently.
Within seconds, they were all down; groaning, clutching themselves, or trying to crawl away.
The masked figure bent and picked up the book she had dropped. It held the book for a moment, as if weighing it in it's hands, then stepped forward and passed it to her.
Angela took them without a word. Her pulse was still racing- a strange heat beneath her skin that she didn't understand. Something about the figure's presence caught at her, lingering in her chest.
Without speaking, it gestured for her to go. She hesitated, but the silent signal came again firm and unquestionable.
So she turned, clutching the books to her, and began to walk.
...
Four men knelt on the cold floor, clothes torn, streaked with blood. Their heads hung low, breaths ragged.
A woman's voice sliced through the silence; low, rich and edged with steel.
"Good for nothing."
One of the men trembled, his shoulders quaking.
"... was too powerful," he muttered.
The voice sharpened.
"You four cannot even defeat one person."
A visible shiver passed through all of them. Their knees seemed to weaken under the weight of those worlds.
Her tone dropped lower, colder.
"Thomas."
Silence.
Then, with slow, deliberate venom:
"Make sure they remember this day. Make their families remember it, too."
The four stiffened, horror flashing in their eyes. One of them whimpered knowing no plea could save them now.
Bootsteps echoed slowly across the floor. Heavy and Unhurried.
Thomas stepped into view; tall, broad and carrying the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier.
No words.
Only the sound of leather gloves creaking as he tightened his grip on the metal rod in his hand.
The four men froze, eyes locked on that glint of steel. One of them stammered, P-please"
The first strike landed before he could finish. A sharp crack split the air, followed by a muffled cry. Thomas didn't pause. The second blow came harder, forcing another man sideways onto the floor.
The figure in the shadows didn't move. The face stayed hidden in the half light, just an outline against the glow from the far wall watching as if violence was nothing more than a routine task.
A third strike.
The fourth.
Bones protested; breathless gasps filled the room.
When one man tried to crawl away. Thomas's boot pinned him down.
Another blow fell; final, heavy and deliberate.
Silence followed, expect for the ragged wheeze of the broken.
Blood pooled slowly on the concrete, catching the dim light in dark reflections.
Thomas stepped back, metal rod slick in his hand. He turned toward the figure. A slow nod was the only answer.
"Leave them," came the low feminine voice.
"Let the message spread."
...
Angela's breath came quick, the weight of the Alpha-Omega book still in her arms. Something about the compound felt...wrong.
Too quiet.
Not even the dog stirred.
Her chest tightened.
"Mom? Dad?" Her voice cracked.
Nothing.
She stepped closer to the main house, unease crawling up her spine.
Then she saw it; her dog, sprawled near the doorway.
Blood glistened dark against its fur.
Her stomach lurched.
She pushed the door open. The metallic scent hit her first.
A thin trail of blood led deeper inside.
"Mom?!" Her voice shook into view.
Her pulse slammed in ears-dum...dum...dum...
It was her parents.
Her father lay motionless, eyes open but empty. Her mother, blood pooling beneath her, forced her gaze to meet Angela's. Her lips trembling and voice barely there.
"Run...Angela...run..."
...
{Three Days After the Incident}
Maria was in the garden, watering the flowers- rows of bright blooms swaying gently in the breeze.
Phillip approached, a thin folder in his hands. He stopped beside her.
"I've gone through the investigation you asked me to follow up on," he said.
Maria looked up from the flowers.
"Her name is Angela Johnson. She's a college student, majoring in environmental Science. But she's been in and out of school many times because of unpaid fees."
He glanced at the page. "Her father was in the hospital with kidney failure. The treatment cost was high, and her mother borrowed heavily to pay for it. That's why she went to work at the club."
Phillip's tone shifted, lower now.
"Unfortunately...three days ago, her parents were killed."
Maria froze, the watering can still in her hand.
"How...? Her voice caught, almost refusing to shape the word.
Philip hesitated, then said quietly, "It was brutal."
She stared at him, the air suddenly heavy between them. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, her voice broke the silence. "What about her?"
Phillip shock is head. "She's nowhere to be found."