The sharp clang of metal echoed through the air, followed by a dull thud. Stephan stood firm, his tall frame unyielding. The edge of his coat fluttered in the breeze, giving him an air of aloofness. Opposite him, the figure who had just attacked was sent flying backward, stumbling roughly six feet before crashing to the ground, covered in dirt.

Slowly, the figure lifted his head. Felicia finally got a clear view of his face. Gasps from Imogen and Scarlet filled the air, and Felicia’s heart skipped a beat as her pupils constricted. It was Maurice! What was he doing? What had caused him to lose control?

Felicia had always known there was bad blood between Maurice and Stephan. Their families' feud stretched back generations. Though they each ruled their respective territories and generally avoided open conflict, underlying hostility was ever-present. But this time, Maurice was not being subtle. He had come openly, blade in hand, to attack. Was he out of his mind?

Before Felicia could process the situation, Maurice was moving again. Oddly, his target wasn't Stephan, but Imogen. With bloodshot eyes, he gripped his knife and charged. Imogen froze momentarily, still shaken from the first attack. Though Stephan had pulled her to safety earlier, seeing Maurice rush toward her again made her heart race. But this time, Imogen steadied herself. She didn't need to; Stephan moved again.

Simultaneously, several of Stephan's men, who had disembarked from the helicopter, rushed forward, forming a protective barrier around Imogen, Felicia, and Scarlet. Stephan's expression was dark and menacing. With a few swift, calculated moves, he disarmed Maurice, sending the knife flying. Maurice reacted quickly, using the momentum to throw a punch aimed directly at Stephan's temple—a blow that would have been fatal if it landed.

“Watch out!” Imogen shouted.

But Stephan's gaze remained calm. With a subtle sidestep, he effortlessly avoided the punch. In the same motion, he extended his leg and delivered a kick. Maurice, who had once been confined to a wheelchair for years, collapsed to one knee with a muffled groan of pain. The damage was severe.

The fight was over in a few moves. Stephan’s patience had reached its limit. His voice was cold and sharp, each word cutting like a blade: “Maurice, do you have a death wish?”

Despite the history of enmity, Stephan had never considered Maurice worth killing. But now, Maurice had crossed a line. To attack Imogen in front of him—and not once, but repeatedly—was a blatant provocation. Anyone else would have realized the danger and either backed down or begged for mercy, but not Maurice.

He acted as though he hadn't heard Stephan's words. The moment he fell to his knees, he rose again like a machine, his body moving on autopilot, charging at Imogen once more. “You’re asking for it!”

Stephan’s last shred of patience snapped. With a quick motion, he kicked the knife he had disarmed into the air. The blade spun, heading straight for Maurice's back. But Maurice didn't dodge. His eyes remained fixed on Imogen, unwavering. It was like nothing mattered to him anymore. He was only focused on reaching Imogen, even if it meant his death. Something wasn't right. Something was very wrong.