Evil MC's NTR Harem

Ross's composure and the sudden turn of events sent ripples of doubt through them.

"Is this what you call tough?" Ross taunted, taking a step closer to the incapacitated goon. "I must say, I'm not impressed. If you're the best your cuck boss can send, then I'm really not worried."

The leader groaned, trying to muster the strength to retaliate, but the pain was overwhelming. "You… you won't get away with this!" he spat between gritted teeth, desperation seeping into his voice.

Ross leaned down, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Oh, I think I will. You see, you've made a grave mistake underestimating me. This world is far more dangerous than you can imagine, and you're about to learn just how unprepared you really are." He stood tall, towering over the goon leader, who could only glare back in helpless fury.

James, now on his feet, felt a surge of anger and humiliation at the sight before him. This was supposed to be a demonstration of power, a show of force to crush Ross's spirit, but it had backfired spectacularly. The leader was on the ground, and Ross was reveling in his triumph.

"Get up!" James shouted, his voice echoing off the walls, filled with frustration. "Don't let him disrespect you like this!"

The remaining goons, unsure of what to do, hesitated. They had witnessed their leader humiliated, and the atmosphere had shifted. Ross had gone from a captive to a formidable opponent in mere moments.

With a fierce resolve, one of the other goons stepped forward, determined to prove himself. "I'll take him!" he declared, lunging at Ross, his fists ready to unleash a flurry of blows.

Ross merely sidestepped, a grin still plastered on his face. "You really think that's going to work?" he asked, his tone playful. He effortlessly dodged the incoming punches, weaving around the attacker with ease, the movements fluid and practiced.

The goon stumbled, thrown off balance, and Ross seized the opportunity. In one swift motion, he pivoted and delivered a powerful kick to the goon's midsection. The man doubled over, gasping for air, his momentum carrying him toward the ground.

"Come on, guys!" Ross shouted, looking at the remaining goons. "Is this really all you've got? You're making this too easy!"

With adrenaline coursing through him, he felt invincible, each taunt empowering him further. The goons hesitated, fear creeping into their hearts as they realized they were outmatched. They exchanged glances, trying to gauge each other's resolve, but it was clear—this was not going as planned.

"James, do something!" one of them urged, backing away slightly.

James clenched his fists, a mix of anger and frustration boiling inside him. "You all better get your act together or I swear—"

But before he could finish, Ross interrupted, his voice dripping with confidence. "Or what? You'll have me thrown out? Because I don't think that's going to work out too well for you." He smiled broadly, a glimmer of danger lurking in his eyes.

The tension in the room reached a boiling point, and the atmosphere crackled with uncertainty. James knew he had to regain control, but the situation was spiraling out of his grasp, and Ross was proving to be a far more formidable opponent than he had anticipated.

"All right, time to end this. It's getting boring already." Ross clicked his tongue in annoyance, and with remarkable agility, he swiftly dispatched the remaining goons.

He could have easily killed them with a single punch, but he still had uses for these big guys. This time, however, he made sure to leave their family jewels intact, just for his own amusement.

"Okay then. New rules. My rules," Ross declared, his voice steady and commanding as he stood over the incapacitated bodies. He turned his gaze to James, a cruel malice spreading across his face, his eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and wicked intent.

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension as James realized he was now at a distinct disadvantage. Ross's confidence radiated from him, an aura of power that made James's earlier bravado seem utterly foolish. Ross took a step closer, his expression a blend of amusement and menace.

"Get up! You're supposed to be big, bad boys," Ross began, his voice dripping with condescension as he looked down at the groaning figures sprawled across the floor. "Now, I want you to do something for me. Look at James. Isn't he beautiful?"

The goons hesitated, exchanging wary glances, but eventually, they reluctantly followed his gaze. James stood there, a mix of anger and confusion etched on his handsome face.

He felt exposed under Ross's scrutiny, and a swell of embarrassment coursed through him. He couldn't believe this was happening; he was supposed to be the one in control, and yet here he was, the focus of Ross's derision.

No one dared to provoke Ross; he fought like a madman. As they watched him, Ross moved with the fluidity of a dancer, his body a blur of motion. It was as if he had choreographed the entire fight, each movement deliberate and purposeful.

He slipped past the first goon with ease, ducking under a wild swing before countering with a powerful uppercut that sent the man crashing to the ground.

The second goon rushed in, but Ross spun on his heel, delivering a swift kick that connected with a loud thud, the impact reverberating through the room.

In less than thirty seconds, he had taken down several of them, leaving a trail of defeated bodies in his wake. The entire scene was almost surreal—a perfect demonstration of skill and dominance that left no room for doubt.

With every punch, every kick, he showcased not just his strength but his intelligence as a fighter; he wasn't just relying on brute force, but rather using strategy and timing to dismantle them.

The criminal goons laid on the floor frozen, their bravado crumbling as they witnessed the spectacle. They realized how truly outmatched they were against someone who turned combat into an art form.

Panic seeped into their minds as they contemplated their predicament, the fear coursing through them palpable.

"I didn't hear you answer," Ross said, his voice cold and mocking. He took a step closer to the goons, eyeing each of them with a look that sent a shiver down their spines. "Or maybe you want me to crush your balls too, like I did to your stinky leader?"

The men exchanged terrified glances, swallowing hard as they frantically shook their heads. Their voices stumbled over each other as they replied in chorus, "Yes! Yes, Boss! James is… he's indeed a very beautiful man!"

Ross's grin widened into something sinister, a twisted smile that chilled them to the core. He looked almost gleeful, feeding off their fear.

"Good," he murmured, his voice soft but brimming with malice. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Now, here's what I want from you. Show me you're as tough as you claim. I want to see you make love to beautiful James. I want to see some dedication. Fail me, and you'll see just how disappointed I can get. And believe me," he added, his eyes flashing with a wicked gleam, "you don't want to see me disappointed."

The goons looked at each other, uncertain and horrified, but Ross's presence loomed over them, demanding obedience.

"Yes, Boss," one of the goons said quickly, catching the hint with a nod. The others followed, muttering their agreement as they fell in line, terrified of what defiance might cost them.

"No! Stay away! Get back!" James cried, his face paling as he realized the situation had spiraled beyond his control. His bravado vanished, replaced by pure, unfiltered panic.

"I'll pay you! A million dollars! Just kill Ross for me! Get back! Get back please! Noooo!" His voice was high-pitched, desperate, like a man clinging to the last strands of hope.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The goons had made their choice, cornering him like wolves circling their prey. James's eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but every path was blocked, and the weight of his situation settled heavily on him.

His breaths came quick and shallow, his mind racing as he grasped at any means of survival.

"Wait! Please, no… you don't have to do this!" he begged, his voice a frantic whisper, but it was no use. The room was filled with a sinister energy, his cries bouncing off the walls, each plea seeming to draw Ross's grin even wider.

The day dragged on until night came, and with it, James's desperate cries echoed through the vast, empty hall.