Chapter 201: Victor (ii)
Victor finally snapped out of his frozen glare and shoved himself a step forward, throwing his arm out like he could shield his man from Xavier’s weight alone. His voice carried, smooth but laced with strain, "Enough. He admitted it. He was doing his job. That’s all there is to it."
But the tone didn’t land. The crowd wasn’t listening to him anymore; their attention clung to Xavier, their cameras fixed on his every move. Victor’s jaw twitched, irritation boiling under his polished exterior.
He tried again, louder this time, almost barking. "This is my club tonight. My event. My security! You don’t get to come in here and dictate how I run my place!" He swept his hand to the crowd, searching for some validation, but most of them were whispering Xavier’s name, shoving phones higher, snapping shots like this was all some performance.
Xavier’s gaze didn’t even shift to Victor. It stayed locked on the guard, heavy and suffocating. That disregard was what really lit the fire under Victor—like he didn’t even exist in Xavier’s world. His lips curled into a sneer as he stepped closer, his words dropping into a cold threat.
"You’re making a scene, Xavier. And I’ll tell you now. You don’t want to make me your enemy. You’ve no idea the kind of ground you’re stepping on."
But the way his voice cracked at the edges betrayed him. The authority he was clawing for slipped further away with every murmur of "Xavier" echoing from the crowd.
Victor glanced back at his assistant, desperate for some control, but she only gave a stiff shake of her head, whispering something quick that made his eyes flare hotter.
The guard, still frozen in place, looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Xavier finally shifted his gaze from the trembling guard, like a predator finally deciding to acknowledge the noise behind him. His eyes locked on Victor, and the whole atmosphere in the club shifted. It was quieter, sharper, every whisper dying mid-breath.
"You say you’re the one renting this place," Xavier said, his voice steady but cutting through the noise like glass. "You talk big about enemies, about power. Yet the only thing I’ve seen you do tonight is hide behind a necklace and let your dogs point guns at women."
The crowd murmured, some gasping, some stifling laughs at the jab about the necklace. Victor’s face turned red, the gold chain with its giant VICTOR plate suddenly looking less like power and more like a parody of it.
"You don’t know who you’re talking to," Victor spat, his tone desperate to claw back control. "I own men like you. People bend when I speak. You’re just some... streamer who got lucky, and this—" he waved his hand to the crowd filming, "—this fame? It won’t last. Me? I’ll still be standing when your little fans get bored and move on."
That line was meant to sting, but it only made the crowd boo and hiss, some even shouting, "Sit down!" and "Shut up, Victor!"
Xavier stepped forward, closing the space between them, his presence pressing down so hard it felt like the air itself went heavy. His voice dropped, low but loud enough that every corner of the club caught it.
"You think I care about your rented club? Your fake chains? You let your guards intimidate a friend of mine. That’s your mistake. But the bigger mistake..." he leaned in just slightly, eyes narrowing, "is thinking you can threaten me and walk away like nothing happened."
Victor flinched but masked it with a scowl, barking back, "This is my night, not yours! You don’t just walk into a party you weren’t invited to and act like a king in my house!"
The crowd started laughing now. HIs house? Everyone knew Victor only rented the club. His desperate grasp at authority was unraveling in front of all of them, and Xavier didn’t even need to say it.
But he did anyway, twisting the knife. "Your house? You couldn’t even keep the back door open. You’re so busy playing king, you forgot what real power looks like."
The silence that followed was suffocating for Victor, the weight of humiliation settling on his shoulders while Xavier stood calm.
The guard stood frozen, sweat dripping down the side of his face, but Xavier didn’t look at him yet. His eyes stayed locked on Victor, like he was waiting for the man to make one more mistake.
Victor puffed up his chest, desperate to claw back dignity. "Enough of this circus. Tell me, what do you want? Money? A cut of the party fund? Name it. I can pay you ten times whatever you think you’re worth."
The crowd hissed and muttered, disgust rolling through the air. He sounded pathetic, like a rich brat trying to buy his way out of a hole he dug himself into.
Xavier finally moved—just a tilt of the head, but it carried the weight of a hammer. "You think this is about money?" His glare burned into Victor. "If I wanted money, I’d punch you until your teeth hit the floor, then hand you some bills to pay for a dentist. Would that make things square?"
Laughter burst out from the crowd, raw and unrestrained, some people even clapping. Victor’s face went purple, but he said nothing.
Xavier let the noise die before turning to the guard who had stepped up. His voice was calm, but emotionless. "Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to kneel. You’re going to bow to her—" he pointed at Angel, whose wide eyes caught every soul’s attention "—and you’re going to apologize like your life depends on it. Because it does."
The silence was brutal. Everyone’s eyes shot to Angel, then back to the guard. Even Victor’s jaw slackened as if he hadn’t expected Xavier to flip it like that.
Angel looked stunned, her breath caught in her throat. The guard’s face went pale, his legs trembling as if the floor beneath him had turned into fire.
’What? Just an apology?’ Victor was dumbfounded. ’He did all this drama for just a fucking apology?! I thought he was gonna kill the guard. Though I didn’t care, I couldn’t let that happen in front of everyone, which is why I stepped in. But all this son of bitch wanted was just an apology?! I will never forget this humiliation!’