The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 424

“Little Logan,” Keaton said, lips twisting into a sneer. “Watch your mouth. I’m not a rebel leader. I’m the leader of the people. And Alfred Kingston? He’s the leader of the elite.”

Keaton continued. “So who do you think the king will back? The leader of the people or the leader of the elite?”

“You’re just the leader of a rebellion,” Logan spat. “A terrorist. You’ll never be recognized as governor.”

“Talking to stupid men takes patience—especially the most stupid men in this country.” Keaton rolled his eyes like the insult bored him.

“Since when do I need your approval to be governor of Los Angeles? Don’t make yourself sound important.”

Bella laughed, sharp and strutting. “I’ve been saying it for months—he’s the most useless fool in the whole country. Finally people see it.”

Logan stood straighter; the old military posture returned like armor. He’d been the second most powerful commander in the nation once—he would not be humiliated.

“Do any of you want to die?”

Keaton let out a low laugh. “When I accepted this medal from the king, I heard what he said clear as day.”

“Keaton, my heart is always with the people. I hope you protect Los Angeles from the elite. Alfred’s already chosen his side; his heart isn’t with the people anymore.”

“When he’s truly lost them, you should step up and take his place.”

Logan snapped. “You liar. The king supports Alfred. He stays in his position.”

Keaton's smile went cold as a winter morning. "Let him stay, the king said as he placed Alfred there for a reason — to be my steppingstone."

“Shut up,” Logan barked. “Nothing that comes from your mouth is trustworthy.”

“Believe whatever you like, brother,” Keaton said, amusement in his tone. Then, quieter, he recited the king’s words like a verdict:

“The king sent a message to every governor. He said: ‘Any man who can beat Keaton in single combat will be granted Los Angeles.”

“But if anyone sends soldiers into Los Angeles, I will dispatch the Kingwells and the national regiments to reclaim the state. And Logan—if you try anything nasty—I, the king, myself will ride out, meet you face to face, and take your head.’”

Logan’s forehead broke into a cold sweat. The king was the most powerful man in the land.

No one could stand against him. If the king chose to visit someone, that person was either bound for hell or heaven—anywhere but on earth.

“I don’t believe a word you say,” Logan muttered stubbornly.

“Little Logan,” Samuel cut in. “When the king handed Keaton that medal, I was there. I heard the message with my own ears. I can swear it’s true.”

“You… met the king?” Logan’s voice cracked. Almost no governor—himself included—had ever been in the king’s presence.

Samuel sneered. “Me, and half the governors here. If the king never bothered to meet you, maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to get close to the people he’ll kill later.”

A heavy silence fell. The governors shifted uneasily, realizing the weight of Samuel’s words.

Keaton stretched his arms overhead, a yawn breaking the tension.

“So be it. Any governor who wants Los Angeles can challenge me. But remember, a duel with me means life or death. I’ve never let a challenger walk away alive.”

He leaned back, voice cool and final. “Anyway, I’m done here. My daughter’s wounds need tending. We’ll meet again.”

With that, Keaton cut the connection, leaving the governors shaken—none of them daring to openly side with Alfred when the king himself had put his weight behind Keaton.

Jasmine ended the call too, only to hear commotion outside the Vancouver governor’s mansion. She rushed to the window.

“Sir, step back. I’m ordering you to step away. This is a secured residence. If you approach, I will use my firearm.”

“You’ll shoot me?” Alfred barked, incredulous. “Try it.”

Jessica pushed up beside him, eyes burning. “Shoot him, and I’ll tell Jasmine what cowards you are. I’ll make sure your whole family pays.”

They advanced without hearing the warning. The guard’s thumb hovered on the safety of his service pistol. “I don’t want to fire, sir. Move back.”

Alfred laughed, ugly and sharp. “You think you can stop me? You’ll regret this.”

“Correction, sir,” the guard said, cold as steel. “If you force me to fire, you’ll be the first to fall.”

Alfred lunged. The guard’s training took over: one controlled shot to stop the threat.

The world shrieked. Jessica went down, her arm collapsing under a dark bloom.

Alfred staggered back as a round tore through his hand and upper thigh.

Blood slicked his fingers; pain cut clean and bright.

“You bastard!” Alfred spit, clutching his wounds. He swore and tried to move, but his steps were ragged and slow.

The guard didn’t gloat. He held the pistol steady, breath slow, voice flat and professional. “Stand down. Don’t force this further. I have your head in my sights.”

“You fucking bastard!” Alfred roared.

The guard’s finger tightened. The world detonated—sharp, bright.