Chapter 76
The north side of the 9th District was different from the south.
The hotel was at the end of a quiet street, a four-story building with a faded sign that read "The Grandview" in cursive letters.
The paint was peeling, the windows were dark, but Elijah could feel the auras inside.
Twenty of them, scattered throughout the building, their Ki dense and controlled.
Tristan parked the car across the street and killed the engine.
His purple eyes scanned the building, counting the windows, the doors, the possible escape routes.
Aurora sat in the passenger seat, her silver hair pulled back, her blue eyes fixed on the entrance.
"There are at least twenty of them inside," Tristan said.
Elijah nodded. He could feel them too.
Most were Beginner Knight Stage Mid and High.
A few were at Peak.
And on the top floor, two auras stood out—one dense and powerful, and one that felt familiar.
He had felt that Ki before. Weeks ago, In the death matches.
He couldn't place it. Not yet. But it was there, tugging at the edge of his memory.
"Let's go," Elijah said.
They crossed the street and walked through the front doors of the hotel.
The lobby was empty.
The front desk was abandoned, the chairs in the waiting area were empty, the lights were dim.
But Elijah could feel the gang members watching from the shadows, their auras flickering with tension.
These were not the same as the south side gang.
These were fighters from the Blackwater Syndicate—one of the larger operations in the north side, known for holding their territory through fear and violence.
No one stopped them.
They walked to the stairs and climbed. The second, third and fourth floors were empty.
But the door to the top floor was blocked.
Three men stood in front of it, their arms crossed over their chests, their eyes hard.
Their auras were at Beginner Knight Stage Peak, their Ki dense and controlled.
They didn't speak. They didn't move.
They just stood there, blocking the door, their eyes locked on Elijah.
Elijah stopped a few feet away. Tristan and Aurora stopped behind him.
The three men didn't blink.
Elijah waited.
The seconds passed, and the men didn't move. Their eyes never left Elijah's face.
Elijah didn't rush. He stood there, his red eyes meeting theirs, his expression calm. He had time. They had nowhere to go.
One of the men the one in the middle, his aura the strongest of the three reached behind him and pushed the door open.
He stepped aside and the other two followed.
Elijah walked through the door.
The room beyond was large, a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the dark streets of the north side.
The furniture was expensive—leather couches, a glass coffee table, a mahogany desk in the corner.
The lights were low, casting long shadows across the floor.
And in the center of the room, sitting on a couch with her legs crossed and a glass of wine in her hand, was a young woman.
She was nineteen years old, with hair the color of midnight and skin that seemed to glow in the dim light.
Her face was sharp and elegant, with high cheekbones and full lips and eyes that were the color of honey.
She wore a dress that clung to her body, the fabric dark and expensive, and Elijah could see the shape of her beneath it the curve of her hips, the narrowness of her waist, the swell of her chest.
She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that made men forget what they were doing.
She was smiling at him.
Elijah's Ki sense reached out, brushing against her aura, and he felt it the familiar pulse of her Ki, the same Ki he had felt weeks ago in the death matches.
The woman who had yielded in the tenth match, who had asked to follow him.
He had forgotten about her and pushed her to the back of his mind. There had been too much else to think about—the Royal Rumble, the gang, Jack.
But now, looking at her face, at her honey-colored eyes, at the smile that curved her lips, he remembered.
"Red Eye," she said. Her voice was low, smooth, amused. "It's been a long time."
Tristan's purple eyes narrowed. He recognized her Ki and voice. He didn't say anything.
He just stood behind Elijah, his hand resting on the blade at his hip.
Aurora looked between them, confused, but she didn't speak.
Elijah sighed.
The woman set her glass down on the coffee table and stood up. Her dress fell into place around her legs.
She was tall for a woman, nearly as tall as Elijah, and she moved with a grace that seemed practiced.
She walked toward him, her heels clicking on the floor, her honey-colored eyes never leaving his face.
She stopped a few feet away, close enough that he could smell her perfume something floral, something expensive.
Her eyes shift from honey to storm gray when she fights, like a physical manifestation of her battle state.
"I never got to introduce myself properly," she said. "My name is Sylvia."
She gestured to the man standing beside the couch a man with broad shoulders and a hard jaw and the same honey-colored eyes as her.
He was older than her, maybe twenty-five, with dark hair cut short and a scar that ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.
His aura was dense and controlled, at Advance Knight Stage (Initial). He wore a black jacket with no symbol, but his presence filled the room.
"This is my brother," Sylvia said. "Daniel Blackwater. The leader of the Blackwater Syndicate."
Daniel's eyes locked onto Elijah's. There was no fear in them.
Just the cold calculation of a man who had survived in the 9th District for years.
Elijah nodded. He didn't offer his hand. Neither did Daniel.
Sylvia smiled and walked back to the couch, sitting down with the same easy grace.
She crossed her legs and looked up at Elijah, her honey-colored eyes bright.
"You're wondering why we didn't attack," she said.
"The thought crossed my mind."
She laughed. "I told my brother to call it off. The south side gang went ahead without us."
Elijah's expression didn't change. "Why?"
Sylvia tilted her head, studying him. "Two reasons. First, because I'm in love with you."
The words hung in the room.
Aurora's eyebrows rose and Tristan's expression didn't change.
Elijah didn't react.
Sylvia's smile widened at his lack of response. "And second, because even if we had attacked, we wouldn't have won. I've seen you fight, Red Eye. I've felt your Ki. The Blackwater Syndicate is strong, but it's not strong enough to beat you."
Daniel's jaw tightened. His honey-colored eyes flickered with something anger, pride, or both.
"Because you Love him doesn't mean we can't beat him," Daniel said.
His voice was low, rough. "We didn't attack because my sister asked me not to."
Sylvia looked at her brother, and something passed between them—a silent argument, a disagreement.
Elijah ignored it.
He walked to a chair near the window and sat down.
The leather was cold against his back.
Tristan and Aurora moved to stand behind him, their Ki flickering, their hands ready.
The gang members in the room the ones who had been watching from the shadows shifted.
Their hands moved closer to their weapons. Their eyes locked onto Elijah with tension.
Daniel stepped forward, his boots heavy on the floor. "You killed three of my men tonight. So, what brought you here when there was no damages."
Elijah leaned back in the chair. His red eyes met Daniel's honey-colored ones.
"You sent your people to my territory," Elijah said. "You surrounded my bar. You coordinated with the south side gang to attack my people. Just because they didn't get the chance to kill anyone doesn't mean that's something to let slide."
Daniel's hands clenched at his sides. "You could have sent a message and we could have made meeting. Instead, you came here with two people and sat in my chair like you own this place."
Elijah's voice was calm. "It all started because you disagreed with us buying businesses in your territory. You could have said so or we could have come meet. Instead, you acted on violence first."
He leaned forward slightly.
"So I'm here to finish it."
The room went silent.
The tension was thick, heavy, pressing down on everyone inside.
The gang members by the walls had their hands on their weapons now, their knuckles white, their Ki flickering with readiness.
Daniel stared at Elijah.
Sylvia sat on the couch, her wine glass in her hand, her honey-colored eyes moving between her brother and Elijah. She seemed almost excited.
Tristan's hand rested on the blade at his hip. Aurora's silver hair caught the dim light, her blue eyes sharp, her body ready to move.