Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 256

Chapter 256: The Impossibilism of Heroism

Four traumatized women. One stairwell. A building packed with seventy heavily armed professionals converging on us with surgical precision.

The math wasn’t just bad—it was suicidal.

I cut Margaret’s zip-ties first. Her wrists were shredded raw, blood crusted over from hours of fighting restraints. She flexed her hands like she was testing whether she still owned her own body. No time for comfort—my knife was already sawing through the next set of plastic bonds, each slice releasing women who looked like they’d been broken and stitched back together with terror.

"ARIA, tactical assessment," I thought, brain sprinting.

"Thermal confirms seventy hostiles on-site," she replied, cool as ice while my pulse hammered. "Full tactical teams. Professional spacing, coordinated advances, all exits covered. Probability of surviving a direct confrontation while protecting four civilians: zero percent."

Zero percent. Fuck me.

"Options?"

"Subterranean extraction," ARIA said. "This facility sits on top of abandoned subway freight lines. Only viable route not currently occupied. Access requires structural demolition."

"Do it."

"Acknowledged. Redirecting port fuel trucks into structural columns now."

Of course she was.

Erin Vasquez crumpled the instant her restraints were gone, legs folding like wet paper. The others weren’t far behind—shaking, crying, caught somewhere between hysteria and catatonia. Margaret, though—Margaret was pure steel. She got up on shredded legs like she’d been waiting for a chance to fight gravity.

"Can you walk?" I asked her.

"I can do whatever you need me to do," she said, voice steady with that terrifying mom-CEO authority that probably scared corporate boards shitless.

But Elena’s voice was already breaking apart: "I can’t. My legs... I can’t feel my legs."

"Master," ARIA cut in, voice like a scalpel slicing through hope, "twelve hostiles entering basement level. ETA to your position: ninety seconds."

Boots hammered concrete above, closer with each second. Not guards—operators. They moved like a machine with seventy heads and one brain.

Margaret grabbed my arm, her nails biting skin. "Eros, leave us. Save yourself. Charlotte needs you more than—"

"Fuck that," I snapped, racking the stolen AK with enough venom to break metal. "Nobody gets left behind."

Even if every tactical manual in existence was screaming at me about laws of physics and manpower ratios. Four traumatized civilians, one meat shield with attitude, and me against an army. I’d officially crossed from strategy into divine comedy.

"ARIA, building schematic. Tell me there’s a miracle door I’ve missed."

"Master, the facility has structural vulnerabilities I can exploit.... like I said that is the only way out of here.

"Can you tell me the details."

"There’s an old subway tunnel system beneath this building—abandoned since the 1980s but still accessible through the basement level. I will create a distraction like I told you master, Something big enough to—"

The floor trembled. Dust poured from the ceiling like cheap horror-movie snow. Dust rained from the concrete ceiling, and the emergency lights flickered.

"What the fuck was that?" I hissed.

"Traffic accident," ARIA said casually. "I redirected a fuel truck into the north wall. Explosion has compromised integrity of support columns. Secondary collision in progress—"

BOOM. The building convulsed like a dying animal. Concrete cracked, lights flickered, women screamed.

"Jesus Christ, ARIA, you’re leveling the building on top of us!"

"Affirmative. Controlled demolition provides maximum chaos while masking extraction and eliminating hostile forces."

Yeah, controlled. The kind of control you get from juggling chainsaws while blindfolded.

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