Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

He glanced past the half-closed door, jaw ticking. Tessa had gone downstairs and hadn't come back yet. The silence she left behind echoed louder than the conversation he was enduring. On the line, Helena's voice broke the stillness with carefully measured formality.

"Would it be appropriate, Your Highness," she asked delicately, "to send aides ahead to begin preparations for the Throne Hall?"

Parker exhaled—slow, deep, like a man reeling in the last shred of his patience.

"You're seriously asking me that?" he said, voice carved in ice and sarcasm. "What exactly do you think? That I was gonna fluff the silk and iron the banners myself? Do the fuckin' dusting with a feather duster and ask my personal maids to sweep the damn marble?"

He paced toward the window, eyes scanning the estate grounds that wasn't sprawled beneath the morning mist like a kingdom caught mid-breath anymore.

"These people," he muttered under his breath. "Have they forgotten who I am—or worse, who they are?"

The venom wasn't loud. It was laced beneath the calm, beneath the composed rhythm of his voice. But Helena felt every syllable. And she understood.

Parker straightened up. "I want the Blackwoods to handle it. Every. Fucking. Detail. From the entrance banners to the seat arrangement to whatever bullshit etiquette y'all worship in those underground circles of self-important fossils. Like they used to. Or should I remind them their role in the Existence."

Helena didn't respond immediately. She didn't need to. Her silence spoke volumes. And it wasn't fear—it was awe. That tone. That command. That shadow of calculated ruthlessness bleeding through his syllables.

The Prince wasn't returning.

He was already back.

And he wasn't some veiled prodigy hiding behind bloodlines and humble suits. No. The menace was in the marrow now, and Helena couldn't help but feel relief… and reverence.

She cleared her throat lightly, her voice gentler this time. "Understood, Your Highness. The preparations will begin immediately."

A beat passed. Then—

"There is something else I felt obligated to mention… The Nyxavere," she said, "has awakened. She hasn't regained its full memories yet, but she will be arriving today. We've housed the whole family at Ravencroft for the time being."

Parker stopped mid-sentence, his breath pausing with him. His hand, which had been casually toying with the edge of his phone, went still.

Nyxavere

Fine. He will see her later.

Then s mind ticked fast—digging through fractured memories and bitter instincts. But one name rose faster than the rest, punching through his thoughts like a blade to the temple.

"...What about the Dravens?" he asked.

The name Scarlett Draven bled through his mind like smoke. That crimson nightmare. That gilded psychotic. That walking trauma in heels. The one who broke him just to see how he bled.

Helena's voice lowered. "The Draven family arrived two days ago. They are residing at their usual place—the hotel above the old tavern."

Parker nodded once, lips tight. Of course. That bar. Where he'd been treated like a slave. The whole clan had crawled into the city.

Good.

Let them watch.

Let them witness the reckoning. A s he punished their daughter for her stupidity. It was revenge day today. He didn't speak, but Helena heard the silence. It was thick. Heavy. Like the quiet right before thunder.

She hesitated. He could hear it—feel it, even—like she was debating whether to speak. And when Helena hesitated, you knew whatever came next wasn't cute. But she also knew this version of Parker wasn't one you kept secrets from. And if she wanted to live to see tomorrow—she had to say it now…

Helena's voice lowered a decibel, a prelude to something... juicier.

"The vampire who attacked you, the one who took your maid—he and his entire bloodline have been captured."

Parker didn't even blink. Of course they had. This was Helena, after all. If something moved in the Ether Community, she probably had a file on it before the culprit even got dressed.

He chuckled under his breath, leaning back against the glass rail like a king who'd just been told the kingdom cleaned itself. "Of course you know," he muttered. "I'd bet my left eye you found out about the Blackwood Co. company buyout even before Robert did. Didn't you?"

A pause.

Then: "Naturally, Your Highness."

Parker smirked. "Keep going."

"The vampire is in custody. His kin, too. The entire family is under surveillance. Interrogation begins within the hour."

He grinned, slow and deadly. "Perfect. Saves me a field trip."

They all knew the rules—Hell, even the stupid ones. Trespass in the Origin Families territory without clearance? You got a slap. Stir chaos? The family paid. That bastard had not only crossed into this territory like it was a public fucking playground—but had also tried to rip something out of Parker's circle. Big mistake.

No. Monumental fuck-up.

That little vampire thought he was ambushing some broken Blackwood reject and even attacked him. Instead, he woke up a dragon—no, something worse than a dragon.

"Helena," Parker said smoothly, "I'll be sending you a list. Three individuals. Deliver them to me."

"Yes, Your Highness."

There was a beat of static, then her voice again. "Would you like me to assign protection detail to Miss Ava, Claire, and Alina?"

He raised an eyebrow. "This something I was saving for after the meeting." He was pleased.

"I assumed it was urgent, your given recent events and activities in the mundane world that might make them targets should your influence grow so deep for to the annoyance of the competitors and old money."

He nodded once. "Fair enough. Do it." He paused, his voice sharpening like the edge of a drawn blade. "Send the best. No second-tier warriors or recycled bodyguards. I want them protected by legends. Anyone lays a damn finger on them—I want a name. An origin. A fucking reason. Then I'll deal with the fallout myself."

Helena inhaled, a rare sound. But she didn't disagree.

"And Cassidy," Parker added. There was a crackle in his tone now, like distant thunder. "There's a demon tailing her."

The line went quiet.

"I want someone stronger than her on her side. I don't care if they're expensive, mythical, or fresh outta Tartarus. If someone so much as thinks of touching her or the others—"

"I understand, Your Highness," Helena said, her voice more serious than ever.

Parker didn't need to elaborate. Helena already knew: this wasn't some precautionary flex. This was a warning shot to the entire damn supernatural community. Helena's voice softened, with something dangerously close to respect.

"No one will dare. I'll make the announcement within the hour. Cassidy, Ava, Claire, and Alina—under the complete protection of the Origin Families."

Then, lower—

"And the order will be tagged… Nyxilith. They won't question it."

She paused. "The Ether Community might not know the name Nyxilith your Highness... but the Origin Families are the best the real players that obey to our strings—we the Nyxlith. They'll understand. This isn't just untouchable. This is like divine. Anyone who dares breach this will be buried in consequence I assure you your Highness."

Parker exhaled slowly, the edges of his jaw sharp with quiet rage.

"Good."

Because if anyone did dare... the punishment wouldn't just be a sentence.

It would be a legacy.