Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 70 Maniac

"How did you manage to set all this up? Have you been planning this for months? Years?" Maya's voice was a mixture of confusion and anger, each question spilling out with increasing intensity.

"And for what, Ross? Just to get into my pants?" Her eyes flickered with disbelief as she looked at the dozen men bound and helpless before her.

It was hard to reconcile the idea that these powerful, merciless figures—the very ones responsible for her brother's murder—were now entirely at her mercy. Discover more content at empire

She even wondered if Ross was just playing her, deceiving her with an elaborate setup just to get her into bed and make her a sex slave.

Maybe these men weren't really the ones responsible for her brother's death after all.

Ross met her gaze with a calm, almost amused expression. He seemed to enjoy watching her struggle to process the scene, the disbelief, the hints of hope, and the simmering rage.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" he replied smoothly, his tone carrying both invitation and challenge.

Without further explanation, Ross strode over to the first captive in the line.

With one swift movement, he yanked the sack off the man's head, revealing the infamous face of Don Lucas Pablo Garcia, a man Maya had dreamed of confronting for years.

The drug lord's features twisted with fury and confusion, his dark eyes narrowing as he recognized that he was completely at the mercy of two people he did not know.

The don immediately tried to shout, his rage spilling over in muffled grunts behind the gag in his mouth.

Ross held his gaze for a moment, savoring the man's helplessness, then reached down, slowly untying the gag to let the don speak.

The moment the gag was removed, the don's voice filled the room, venomous and seething.

"Who the hell are you two?! Release me at once, or I'll have every last one of your family members skinned alive!" he spat, his voice full of rage and menace.

Even bound and vulnerable, he wielded his power like a weapon, trying to assert control through fear.

Ross, however, seemed unfazed. He raised an eyebrow, then picked up a heavy hammer from the nearby table, letting the metal glint ominously under the dim light.

He gave Maya a sidelong glance, his expression both calculating and taunting.

"Well?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Want to do the honors, or are you too afraid to get your hands a little bloody?"

Maya's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the hammer, then at the bound man who had haunted her every nightmare since her brother's murder.

Everything she'd ever wanted—justice, revenge, retribution—was here, laid out for her to take.

The chance to bring her brother's killer to his knees, to make him pay for every bit of pain he'd caused her family, was finally within her grasp.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the hammer, the weight of it settling into her palm like a promise.

She took a shaky breath, glancing back at Ross, whose eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite read—pride, approval, or maybe something darker, a twisted satisfaction in watching her transform.

"Go on," he murmured, a wicked smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "This is what you came here for, isn't it? To avenge your brother? Or are you just a sweet tight little pussy and nothing more?"

Maya's gaze hardened, her resolve strengthening. She turned back to Don Garcia, meeting his furious, hate-filled eyes.

She took a step closer, her grip on the hammer tightening, each heartbeat echoing louder in her ears as the world around her faded, narrowing down to this one moment.

"Remember my brother?" she whispered, her voice shaking yet filled with steel. "You took him from me, you stole everything from my family. And now, it's your turn to pay."

The don sneered, his pride unshaken even as he sat bound and helpless before her. "Ah, you're the pretty little sister of that so-called hero of the city, David Pierce, aren't you?" he taunted, his gaze cold and unfeeling. "How you've grown." He chuckled darkly, contempt dripping from his voice. "But you don't have the guts. You think you can play the executioner? You're nothing. Just another foolish little girl dabbling in games far too dangerous for her."

Don Garcia replied in a mocking tone, his eyes narrowing as he took in Maya's face. He recognized her instantly. He was clever enough to keep his friends close and his enemies closer, always tracking those he had wronged.

Maya felt her jaw clench, the words hitting deep, but instead of deterring her, they fueled her anger further. She lifted the hammer, the weight and purpose of it solidifying her resolve. "Did you kill him? My brother, his wife, and their children?" Maya asked, her voice cold, steady, each word edged with a deadly calm.

"Of course. Your foolish brother couldn't keep his nose out of matters that didn't concern him," the Don replied, his lips curling into a sneer. "He had it coming. Thought he could challenge me? He deserved every bit of what he got."

"Fuck you!" Maya's voice broke into a fierce shout, her control slipping as fury consumed her. She raised the hammer above her head and swung it down, pouring all her rage and grief into the blow.

"BANG!" The hammer struck the floor with a thunderous crack, missing the Don by a wide margin. The echo faded, and a tense silence hung between them—until the Don's mocking laughter shattered it.

"Hahaha! You really aren't made for blood, are you?" His laughter was sharp, cruel. "People raised in comfort, peace, and wealth—they rarely have the stomach for real violence, for what it takes to kill. Lucky little bitches, born safe in your high-perched mansions. You don't belong in the real world at all."

He spat at her feet, his contempt plain in every word. "You think your anger makes you dangerous? You think loss and pain give you the right to play in my world? You rich people, you get everything handed to you, and still you think you know struggle, as if loss is a game to be won. But you don't know what it means to starve, to steal, to beg—to kill just to survive another day. That's why people like you don't stand a chance."

Maya's hands trembled, white-knuckled around the hammer's handle, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out his taunts. She wanted to lunge, to strike again, to prove him wrong, but his words had pierced something deep within her. This wasn't her world, and for a brief, bitter moment, she felt the weight of that truth.

"You can hate me all you want," the Don continued, his voice softer now, taunting, "but hate alone doesn't make you strong. It doesn't make you one of us." He smirked, stepping closer until he could lean into her line of sight, unafraid. "Now, are you going to pick up that hammer again, or are you done playing the avenger?"

Maya's chest heaved, her fury now a dark, simmering thing, but her hand didn't lift. The hammer lay heavy in her grip, as though it, too, weighed her down with the sharp contrast between who she was and who she'd wanted to be in this moment.

She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with her own defiant glare, a promise of more to come—even if today, she couldn't bring herself to kill.

"Let me," our op evil MC said, taking the hammer from Maya's hands. "I don't waste pity on the scum of the earth."

He turned to the Don, his gaze sharp and unyielding. The Don's bravado faltered as he took in Ross's excited, maniacal grin. A shiver ran down his spine, and for the first time, fear gripped him.

He knew a crazy bastard when he saw one—and in that moment, he nearly pissed himself.