The King Of War Returns (Jaden Rift) novel Chapter 130

The rubble still smoldered in the distance, the wreckage of the Thornfell’s precious hotel now nothing more than twisted metal and choking dust. Sirens wailed faintly from blocks away, too late to salvage anything.

Jaden turned slowly, his eyes settling back on the pitiful figure sprawled on the ground—Brown, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, his once-expensive suit stained with dust and humiliation.

Jaden’s foot came down—firm, deliberate—pressing onto Brown’s chest, pinning him effortlessly against the cracked pavement.

His voice was quiet, but laced with chilling intent.

“It’s important to get rid of rot early… Evil like you? Best cut it off at the root before it spreads.”

Brown’s face twisted in panic. His bravado had long crumbled, replaced by raw desperation.

“You—You’re trying to get rid of me?!” he choked out, struggling under Jaden’s foot. His voice cracked as the fear fully set in.

“My… my mother is Agatha Thornfell! Do you have any idea the storm you're walking into?! You’ll regret this—you’ll regret this for the rest of your damn life!”

But Jaden only chuckled, reaching casually into his coat. He pulled out his phone, sleek and gleaming under the faint streetlights.

“Oh?” Jaden raised a brow, the corner of his lips curling into a mocking grin. “Agatha Thornfell, huh? The Queen of vultures herself…” His tone was drenched in mockery.

“Alright then. Call her.” Jaden tossed the phone onto Brown’s trembling chest. “Let’s see if Mommy dearest can save her little boy tonight.”

Brown snatched the phone like a drowning man clutching a lifeline, his fingers fumbling as he dialed, breathing ragged. The line rang… once… twice…

Williams, standing a few feet away, clenched his fists. His eyes were wide, the scene all too familiar, too raw. It echoed the fear, the humiliation he'd endured at Jaden’s hands not long ago.

“This bastard…” Williams muttered under his breath, a mixture of awe and bitterness twisting inside him. He watched, helplessly caught between admiration and horror.

Meanwhile, at the Thornfell estate—

The sprawling mansion stood like a fortress, nestled behind iron gates and manicured gardens. Inside, Agatha Thornfell lounged in her grand study, designer heels kicked off, a glass of aged wine at her side, the morning paper unfolded between perfectly manicured fingers.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up without shifting her gaze from the headlines.

“Who is this?” she asked, her voice cool, controlled—the tone of a woman used to commanding fear.

But the moment Brown’s panicked cries burst through the line, her eyes narrowed sharply.

“Mom—it’s me! You—you have to help me!” Brown sobbed, his voice cracking under pressure. “Someone—someone’s destroyed the hotel, they’re trying to kill me! You have to come, you have to—”

Her hand stiffened, the wine forgotten. She straightened, her face darkening with measured fury.

“Give him the phone,” she commanded, voice like ice cracking beneath a surface. “Now.”

Jaden’s voice floated smoothly into the call, drenched in amusement.

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