The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 389

Alex could’ve killed the thugs without breaking a sweat, but he wasn’t here for them.

He needed Mike, and there were still things he didn’t know. So instead of rising to the bait, he sat down on the floor, legs stretched out, calm as stone.

The thugs glanced his way, sizing him up, then dismissed him.

Their attention turned to Mike’s other companions—bodyguards, clients, whoever they were.

Seven of them were forced to their knees. Alex stayed in the corner, silent, watching.

The old man shifted his gaze to Mike, his lips curling into a cruel grin.

“Hey, punk. Weren’t you acting real arrogant just now? Stealing my woman? Threatening to break my arms?”

He tossed his baton to the floor in front of Mike. “Well, here’s your chance. Do it. Break my arm.”

Mike forced a weak smile. “That was a misunderstanding. She caught my eye for a second and I forgot who she was with. I was stupid.”

“How about this—I’ll cover all your expenses here tonight as an apology.”

“Fuck you.” The man’s hand cracked across Mike’s face.

“You think I pay for anything in this club? I eat, drink, and take whatever I want. You think I’m some cheap bastard you can buy off? I’d rather cut one of your arms.”

Mike winced, still kneeling. “Please, I need my arms for work. How about a new car? I just bought the latest model. It’s outside. I’ll give it to you.”

Leo drove his boot into Mike’s face. “Who the hell do you think I am? Everyone knows my son—Lord Moretti. I don’t need your hand-me-down car. I can walk into any dealership and take what I want. Your arms still look perfect to me.”

Desperation broke Mike. He slammed his forehead against the floor and clutched at Leo’s feet. “Please, don’t take my hands!”

“Pathetic.” Leo spat, slapping him again. “Get me the machete. Tonight, I’m taking an arm home.”

One of the thugs handed Leo a machete. Leo gripped it, raised it high, and swung down with savage force.

The machete hissed through the air—then stopped dead. A single hand gripped the steel, holding it still. No matter how Leo strained, it wouldn’t move an inch.

“That’s enough,” Alex said. His voice was low, commanding.

Leo’s face twisted in shock. “How dare you stop me!”

“I don’t care if you kill the rest,” Alex said coldly. “But you don’t touch Mike. I still need him.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “And what if I decide I want him dead?”

“Then don’t blame me for breaking you.”

Leo let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Break me? Don’t make me laugh. Look around you, punk—twenty of my men, armed and ready. You touch me, and they’ll carve you into pieces right here on the floor.”

Alex sneered. “Touch you, you say?”

Before anyone could blink, his hand shot out. A deafening crack echoed through the club as his palm slammed across Leo’s face, snapping his head sideways.

“I just touched you,” Alex said coldly. “So what?”

The entire room went silent. Not a breath, not a whisper—only the stunned stillness of men who couldn’t believe what they had just witnessed.

Leo staggered back, clutching his cheek, eyes wide in disbelief. Never in his life had anyone dared lay a hand on him. Shock and humiliation burned in his chest.

The gangsters stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.

None of them had ever witnessed anything like it—Lord Moretti, the feared leader of the Ouroboros Gang, a name whispered in fear across the city.

The man whose empire thrived on drugs, guns, and bloodshed, who commanded hundreds of ruthless killers

And now his own father had been slapped like some common fool.

“How the hell could he hit Lord Moretti’s father? Is he insane?”

“Offending Lord Moretti’s father means offending the Lord Moretti and the entire Ouroboros Gang. He’s a dead man walking!”

“What a fool… he doesn’t even know who he just crossed.”

Every eye in the nightclub turned to Alex, expecting to watch him die.

Leo staggered to his feet, one side of his face grotesquely swollen. Blood dripped from his lips as two teeth clattered onto the floor. His voice shook with rage.

“H–how dare you hit me!”

Alex’s tone was calm, almost bored. “Didn’t I already warn you? If you touched Mike, I’d beat you down. Why the hell don’t you listen?”

“You’re dead meat!” Leo screeched. Spittle flew from his mouth. “What are you idiots waiting for? He hit me! Get him!”

“Let’s go!”

A wave of thugs surged forward, machetes and iron batons flashing in the neon lights.

Chairs scraped back, glasses shattered, and panicked patrons scattered toward the corners of the club.

The pounding bass from the speakers made the chaos even worse—then the DJ, half-drunk and grinning, actually cranked up the music, turning the fight into a spectacle.

Some drunkards cheered from the sidelines, screaming for blood. Others laughed like it was the best entertainment of the night.

The gangsters rushed Alex in a frenzy. Instead of retreating, he walked into them—calm, steady, unstoppable.

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