Chapter 200: Victor (i)
The silence stretched like a blade drawn across the room. Everyone stared—dancers froze mid-step, bartenders held bottles in mid-air, even the waitresses stood still with trays balanced on their palms.
Xavier’s eyes swept the floor, then lifted back to the balcony where Victor sat. He didn’t shout, didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His voice came again, low and cutting, amplified by the mic.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
The weight of the words pressed on the crowd. Conversations that had started up again died instantly. The tension thickened, every second dragging like an hour.
Victor shifted in his chair, the gold chain clinking as he leaned forward. He forced a chuckle, waving his fat hand as though to brush it all away. "Now, now... let’s not spoil the mood. Nobody meant any harm. My men are overzealous, maybe." His eyes darted at Angel briefly before snapping back to Xavier. "But no disrespect intended."
Xavier didn’t lower the mic. He stepped closer to the edge of the dance floor, the spotlight catching him as if the club itself recognized the shift in power. His tone grew sharper, cold enough to bite.
"You think I’m asking for excuses?" His eyes locked on Victor. "When you touch what’s mine, even once, you cross a line. I don’t care if it’s your guards, your party, or your fat ass giving the order."
A ripple of gasps spread through the room. No one spoke to Victor like that. Not here, not in his own party.
Victor tried to smirk again, but it faltered under Xavier’s stare. The big man reached for his cup, but his hand trembled slightly, wine sloshing over the rim.
But it wasn’t due to fear... it was anger.
Xavier tilted his head, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. "If anyone here wants to test me—go ahead. Step forward. Intimidate her again." His free hand lifted, pointing casually at Angel beside him. "I’ll make sure the last thing you ever see is me looking down on you."
The atmosphere shifted again. Phones lit up across the room as people whispered Xavier’s name. A few bold ones pushed through the crowd, holding their screens up.
"Holy shit, it is Xavier!" someone shouted.
That cracked the dam—fans swarmed him, snapping selfies, shoving drinks in his hand, laughing nervously as they posed beside him. Every flash of a camera only made the tension sharper, because now whatever happened here was already being uploaded, streamed, and shared.
Victor’s face twitched, the fake smile on his lips stretched tight. His assistant leaned in quick, whispering in his ear. Victor’s eyes narrowed at Xavier, then flicked to the dozens of glowing screens. He leaned back in his seat, forcing a chuckle loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Alright, alright. Let’s all relax," Victor said, his tone carrying a slimy cheer. "This is my party tonight. I rented this place, and brought my own security. The back door was left open, my men shut it. Simple. Just doing their job."
Xavier’s gaze sharpened, his voice steady but laced with ice. "Renting the club means the floor, the bar, the music. Not the back entrance. Your men had no right to touch it. No authority to lock it."
Victor raised his chin, smugness creeping back. "Anyone can slip through a back door. It’s a matter of security. Don’t take it personal."
That earned him a laugh from Xavier, low and taunting. "If your security’s that weak, that afraid of a door, maybe you need better men. Or maybe less wine."
The crowd chuckled nervously, phones still recording. Victor’s jaw clenched, the vein on his temple tightening. He slammed his cup down, red wine spilling across the table.
"You’re treading on a thin line, boy," he growled, trying to reassert himself. His gold necklace gleamed as he leaned forward, the letters of VICTOR bold against his chest. "Be careful, or you won’t like where it leads."
Xavier didn’t even blink. He stepped forward, his shadow stretching under the lights, and lifted the mic back to his lips. "Locking the back door was your first mistake. But pointing a gun at her and threatening to shoot her—" he jerked his head toward Angel, who stood pale but composed "—that was your biggest." His eyes swept over the guards like a predator marking prey. "So let’s make this easy. The one who pulled that stunt steps forward now. Otherwise..."
He smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly. "No number of guards will save you when I decide to move."
The guards froze, shifting uneasily, but none dared step forward.
The tension cracked before Victor could open his mouth again. One of the guards—stocky, square-jawed, the kind who looked like he’d been trained to keep a blank face no matter the situation—shifted uncomfortably. His eyes flicked between Xavier’s cold stare and Victor’s scowl, then down to the floor. The silence from Xavier’s presence was crushing, like every breath he took pressed heavier on their shoulders.
The guard finally exhaled, his voice shaky. "It... it was me."
Every head in the crowd snapped toward him. Even Victor’s eyes narrowed in disbelief as if the man had just betrayed his entire bloodline. The guard cleared his throat, forcing himself to stand straighter, though his trembling hands gave him away. "I—I thought she was sneaking in, so I pulled the gun. I didn’t mean to—"
Xavier’s gaze cut through him like glass, shutting him up mid-sentence. The atmosphere thickened even more, a storm building on Xavier’s shoulders alone, his presence pinning the man to the spot.
Victor clenched his jaw, fury simmering, but for the first time he didn’t look completely in control. The whispering crowd behind Xavier was eating it up, phones lifted high, streams going live, flashes flickering as Xavier’s name spread like wildfire through the room.
Xavier stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the guard.
"You pulled a gun on my friend," Xavier said with an emotionless look on his face.
The guard swallowed, sweat breaking down his temples.
Victor’s lips twisted, like he wanted to intervene, but even he knew the crowd wasn’t on his side anymore.
’Is it worth acting out to save a mere guard whose name I don’t know? I don’t care what happens to them, but I can’t let that brat do whatever he wants.’