Vengeance in His Bed

Mr. Dromote’s face twisted into a scowl as he glared at the mechanic. He pointed a at the man’s chest, his voice rough and laced with irritation. "Enock! Shut your mouth and don’t interfere in matters you don’t know a single thing about! Your family wasn’t harmed years ago! You didn’t lose a wife or a child to this monster! Mind your own business, go back to your workshop, and leave us alone!"

Enock didn’t step back. He dragged his bad leg forward, his face set in stone as he looked into Dromote’s hostile eyes. "I know very well what I am saying, Dromote!" Enock shouted, his voice echoing across the silent lane. "I know every single detail! Nobody here should blame this young man! Dorrent Grefo was entirely innocent of what happened back then!"

A wave of angry murmurs immediately rippled through the gathered crowd. Men brandishing iron bars stepped closer, shaking their heads in utter disbelief.

"Keep quiet, Enock!" a market vendor yelled from the front line. "Are you out of your mind?! Everyone in 3rd Street saw his face! We saw those eyes covered in blood! There is no way in hell it wasn’t him! Stop defending a murderer and get out of the way!"

Before Enock could answer, a woman came running frantically down the narrow alleyway. Her hair was messy, her clothes worn, and tears poured down her cheeks as she shoved her way through the standing crowd. It was Joyline. She threw her arms around Enock’s shoulders, her voice breaking into a hysterical, sobbing scream that drew every eye.

"Enock! What are you doing here?!" Joyline wept, her hands clutching her husband’s grease-stained jumpsuit. "Why are you talking to these people?! That girl—that cursed girl Jannah should not be left alone! She killed our son! Beron is dead, Enock! Our boy died in the hospital ward this morning! He never woke up from his coma!"

The crowd gasped in collective shock. Whispers exploded like wildfire through the alley.

"Beron is dead?"

"The young Alpha who crashed his motorcycle?"

"Lord have mercy..."

Joyline’s face twisted into venom as she whipped her head around, her red, swollen eyes locking onto Jannah, who was still pinned against Dorrent’s side. Joyline raised a shaking hand, pointing her finger at Jannah’s pale face.

"Look at her!" Joyline shrieked, her voice echoing off the brick walls. "She did it! She cast her wicked spell on my Beron just like she did to all those other young Alphas! She bewitched him with her face until he crashed his bike into a concrete wall! She is a murderer! A witch! Get her out of our neighborhood! What a disgusting couple—a cursed witch and a cold-blooded killer standing together!"

The crowd quickly joined in, pointing fingers, hurling curses, and shouting at Jannah to leave forever.

"Get out of 3rd Street, you cursed rat!"

"You’ve brought enough danger to our boys!"

"Leave and never come back!"

Jannah stood completely frozen, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as the heavy wave of public hatred crashed over her. She gripped the fabric of Dorrent’s shirt, her knuckles turning white as fresh tears of humiliation and panic welled up in her eyes. Dorrent’s jaw locked tight, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, murderous fire as he pulled her closer against his chest, his S-tier aura flaring to crush anyone who dared step closer to her.

"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!" Enock roared at the top of his lungs, his voice booming over the shouting mob with such immense desperation that the crowd involuntarily went quiet.

Enock turned around, his hands grabbing his weeping wife by her shoulders. He shook her gently, his eyes wide and pleading. "Joyline, stop it! Stop yelling and stop calling this girl names! Listen to me, woman—Jannah is completely innocent! She had nothing to do with Beron’s crash! She didn’t kill our son!"

Joyline stared at her husband in jaw shock, tears freezing on her cheeks. "What are you saying, Enock?! Have you lost your sanity too?!"

The mob began to rumble again, their patience wearing thin. "Enock, if you’re not going to make sense, you better take your crying wife and leave!" Mr. Dromote shouted, raising his iron pipe. "We don’t have time for your crazy ramblings!"

Enock slowly let go of his wife. He turned around, his eyes sweeping across the sea of hostile faces until his gaze landed dead onto the immaculate, white-haired figure standing on the elevated warehouse steps.

Enock lifted his arm, pointing at the old Mafia lord.

"If you want to know who the real culprit is," Enock shouted, his voice ringing out with terrifying clarity, "look right there! The man responsible for all the blood in these bogs... is Bellero Boren!"

An absolute silence fell over the entire street.

The residents stared at Enock, then turned their heads to look at the elegant, high-society old man standing beside Damian. Disbelief washed over the crowd.

"What?"

"Damian’s father?"

"How could Bellero Boren be the culprit?!"

"Enock has completely lost his mind!" a shopkeeper yelled from the middle row. "How can Doctor Damian’s father be a murderer?! That man rarely even sets foot in the slums! And Doctor Damian has been running a free medical clinic down here for four years, treating our families for free! Stop staining the Boren name with your crazy lies, Enock!"

Up on the steps, Bellero Boren’s psychopathic smirk completely vanished, but he quickly forced a smooth, patronizing laugh, leaning on his cane as he looked down at the mechanic with cold, condescending pity.

"My good man," Bellero purred softly, his voice carrying an easy charm. "Do I know you? Why on earth are you trying to paint my name with dirt when I have never met you a day in my life? Are you suffering from some mental delusion?"

Enock let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sounded entirely devoid of humor. "Stop pretending, Bellero! You know me very well!"

Enock turned back to face the crowd, his arms waving wildly as he addressed his neighbors. "Look at yourselves! Do any of you actually know who Bellero Boren is to stand there calling him a good man?! You talk about his son’s free clinic! Do you genuinely believe Damian Boren built that charity clinic out of the kindness of his heart to help poor laborers like us?!"

Enock’s voice cracked with rage as he delivered the truth. "Damian Boren didn’t build that clinic for you! He started that free clinic for one reason and one reason only—to get close to Jannah Nenth! He wanted to isolate her, groom her, and make her to marry him!"

The crowd stirred in confusion.

"Even if that’s true... isn’t that a good reason?" a young Beta man asked, frowning. "What is wrong with a handsome, rich doctor being infatuated with a beautiful girl? That doesn’t make him a killer!"

"That is where the father intervened!" Enock yelled back, his eyes flashing with terror as the memories of the past surfaced. "Because Bellero Boren wanted Jannah’s rare, precious bloodline to be tied to his family... because he wanted her to marry his son Damian, he personally ensured that no other man in this city could ever lay a hand on her! Whenever an Alpha tried to get close to Jannah... whenever a young man in these slums tried to date her or form a bond... Bellero Boren had them targeted!"

Enock’s voice shook as he laid bare the horrific reality. "Those Alpha men who ended up in terrible accidents... two dying in factory traps, three going completely mad, and my own son Beron crashing his bike... IT WAS NOT A CURSE! Jannah is not cursed at all! Every single one of those accidents was calculated, cold-blooded sabotage engineered by Bellero Boren to isolate her!"

The crowd went completely still. A suffocating shock gripped the street, but skepticism quickly fought its way back.

"That’s ridiculous!" Mr. Dromote barked, stepping forward. "Stop saying crazy things without a shred of evidence, Enock! Slandering an elite family’s name like this will get us all executed! How could you possibly know any of this?!"

Enock took a shuddering breath. Tears finally broke free from his eyes, rolling down his grease-stained cheeks as he lowered his head in crushing guilt.

"I know it..." Enock whispered, his voice trembling so violently that every person in the alley heard it. "Because I was the one who did it."

Joyline gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. "Enock... what are you saying?!"

"I was the I who sabotaged their vehicles!" Enock wept openly, confessing his sin to the whole neighborhood. "I broke the steering joints on those motorcycles! I loosened the factory crane cables! I crippled those five Alphas with my own hands—except my own son Beron! I tried to spare my boy... I warned him to stay away, but he didn’t listen! And the monster who paid me... the Mafia God who threatened to slaughter my entire family if I didn’t carry out his dirty work... WAS BELLERO BOREN!"

Jannah’s mind went completely blank.

A deafening static roared in her ears. She stared at Enock, her eyes wide, dilated, and completely shattered by the revelation. Not cursed? Her entire life— years of crushing isolation, of believing she was a walking plague who brought death to everyone she touched, of hiding in the shadows because she thought her blood was a blight—was a lie. It was all a calculated, bloody game played by the old man standing on the warehouse steps.

She couldn’t process it. Her chest heaved in rapid gasps as her entire reality collapsed around her.

The crowd erupted into chaotic, frantic chatter, people shouting questions, arguing, and looking back and forth between Enock and the pale, silent Bellero Boren.

Dorrent felt Jannah’s frame trembling uncontrollably against his chest. Sensing her hyperventilating, he immediately shifted his weight, wrapping his arm securely around her waist, his hand cupping the back of her head, pressing her face against his collarbone to stabilize her erratic pulse. "Breathe, Jannah," Dorrent growled softly into her hair, his frost pheromones wrapping around her like a protective shield. "Breathe. I’ve got you."

"NO!"

Jannah violently jerked her head back, tearing herself out of his comforting grip. She stared at Enock, her voice breaking into a loud, hysterical shriek that tore straight through the chaotic noise of the alleyway.

"THAT IS NOT TRUE!" Jannah screamed at the top of her lungs, her tears spilling over her lashes in a torrential downpour. "Stop lying to me! I am cursed! My grandfather told me! My lineage is cursed! Stop making up these horrific lies to trick my mind!"

Enock looked across the small space at the weeping, broken girl. His eyes were filled with an pity as he shook his head slowly, his voice cutting through her screams with an unshakeable truth.

"You don’t even know who you really are, Jannah."