Chapter 6 - The Dragon's Strike
Sophia sprinted out of the alley, dropping her coffee cup, Alexander right behind her.
Three heavy black SUVs were parked on the sidewalk outside her apartment building. Four masked men carrying iron pipes and tethers were forcing their way through the shattered front glass doors of her building.
"Mateo!" Sophia gasped.
She didn't wait.
Sophia transformed into a whirlwind of absolute precision. She launched herself at the first attacker outside the door. Before he could raise his iron pipe, Sophia executed a seamless Willow Glide—sliding beneath his guard, slapping his wrist to redirect his weight, and sweeping his ankle. The man crashed onto the pavement with a heavy thud.
The second attacker lunged with a knife.
Sophia didn't dodge back. She stepped into his space. Her left palm struck his sternum—a light, acoustic tap that disrupted his breathing—while her right hand twisted his knife wrist inward. The blade clattered to the ground, and the man folded over, gasping for air.
Alexander caught the third man coming from behind, throwing a solid, boxing-trained right hook that dropped the thug onto the hood of an SUV.
Sophia burst into her family’s apartment on the second floor.
Inside, two mercenaries had trapped her mother and little Mateo in the kitchen corner. One of them was holding a silenced pistol.
"Don't move, girl!" the armed man growled.
Mateo was crying, clutching his mother's apron.
Sophia’s eyes turned pitch black with an ancestral rage.
She took a single step forward. The room seemed to lose heat. The armed mercenary hesitated, frightened by the absolute lack of fear in the twenty-six-year-old maid’s eyes.
"You brought weapons into my home," Sophia said, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "You terrified my family."
The man tried to raise the pistol.
Sophia moved faster than human vision could track. She closed the ten-foot gap in half a second. Her hand flashed—striking the gun's barrel upward as it fired into the ceiling, then executing a triple-point nerve strike across the man's throat, elbow, and solar plexus.
The mercenary hit the floor like a sack of rocks, unconscious before he even landed.
The second man turned to run, but Alexander stepped through the door and planted a heavy iron skillet across his face, knocking him out cold.
Sophia rushed to her mother and brother, gathering them into her arms. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"We’re okay, mija," Elena sobbed, holding her daughter tight. "We’re okay."
Alexander picked up the unconscious mercenary’s phone from the floor. The screen was still active on a call.
Alexander brought the phone to his ear. "Senator Lane."
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On the other end of the line, Senator Lane’s voice spoke with cold arrogant venom. "Did you secure the girl and her brat?"
"No, Senator," Alexander said, his voice dropping into an icy abyss. "Your men are sleeping on the floor in Queens. And tomorrow morning, I’m taking everything you own."
