Chapter 160: Briefcase Part 2
Ethan picked up the briefcase and placed it on his bed.
"Are you sure it’s safe?" Mark questioned, ever the voice of caution.
The blue-eyed man shrugged and opened it anyway, but what they saw left them all in shock.
"Holy shit."
There was money, stacks of it, more than any of them had ever seen in one place.
Elara’s eyes widened slightly.
Mark let out a low whistle. "That’s... a lot."
Inside was also a letter, which drew Ethan’s attention even more than the cash. He picked it up, scanning it instantly to find there was a short and casual message. But what stood out the most was the sender, who made his heart skip a beat.
’The Cyclops? Isn’t he the one that Kaela said ran the UFC and warned was dangerous as fuck?!’
The message was almost polite, but there was definitely a dangerous undertone.
"It was great to have you at my event, even though you killed one of my subordinates. Feel free to come again anytime; my number is attached," he read aloud.
Ethan’s expression didn’t change, but his thoughts sharpened.
’So Mace was working for him.’
And since Mace had claimed to work for the gang that ran Brooklyn, that meant that Cyclops had his hands in more than just some underground fight club. He ran an organisation of Titled and non-Titled that distributed drugs, weapons, and who knew what else.
But that didn’t matter to Ethan.
If it wasn’t the so-called Cyclops, it would be someone else.
What bothered him was the fact that this dangerous fellow now knew his name, where he lived, and likely everything else about him.
Ethan studied the briefcase while still deep in thought.
’Does he want revenge?’
If he did, it wouldn’t have been money inside but a bomb.
Or maybe this was worse and nothing more than a way to make him lower his guard and get him when he least expected it.
Either way...
"It seems like I left a loose end after all," he murmured under his breath.
One that was even bigger than the one he had tried to cut.
But Mark and Elara?
They were still stunned by the amount of money, which was easily in the hundreds of thousands.
’With this, I’d never have to enter a gate, at least for a long time.’
But Ethan definitely planned on returning to those realms of beasts and monsters, and the money didn’t sway him.
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Help yourselves."
And just like that, he walked off toward the shower.
Money meant nothing, not when compared to power.
’If I become an S Rank... I can have all of it, anyway.’
Fame, wealth, freedom, and anything else he desired were easily obtainable with enough power.
The world had changed.
And money, as useful as it was, was no longer the be-all and end-all.
-
Behind him, Mark and Elara looked at the briefcase, then at each other.
As if in silent understanding, they both closed the briefcase, their attention shifting toward Ethan. They couldn’t help but be both curious and concerned about the man who was constantly changing.
But then another knock echoed through the basement, even louder this time.
The bang on the door was so hard it made the entire Black Howl tremble slightly, like someone had slammed their fist, or something heavier, against the wood with zero restraint.
Mark flinched.
"Are you kidding me?" he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as irritation flared through his already fragile, hungover state.
Elara, beside him with one of Ethan’s hoodies draped loosely over her shoulders, tilted her head upward, her hazel eyes sharpening with quiet curiosity.
The first time it had happened, they’d opened the door to find a briefcase sitting there. There was no one in sight, just the money and a message.
This time?
That didn’t seem to be the case.
There was another bang, heavy and deliberate.
Another bang.
Heavier.
More deliberate.
Mark clicked his tongue. "Alright, that’s it."
He rushed upstairs, wincing slightly as his head throbbed, and stomped toward the door with Elara following closely behind him.
"Who the hell keeps-?"
He yanked it open and froze.
"...Oh."
Outside stood a group.
Not one, not two, but a dozen people, all dressed in identical black suits.
Their posture was rigid, their expressions unreadable, their presence oppressive in a way that immediately suffocated the atmosphere. These weren’t criminals or randoms, but senior figures working for the association.
Behind him, Elara’s gaze flicked between the figures, her body tensing instinctively. She could feel that they weren’t your average black suits, and they definitely didn’t seem to be here to play around.
Meanwhile, Ethan was downstairs in the shower, completely unaware.
Steam filled the small bathroom as water cascaded over him, washing away the remnants of the tower and the night before. He hummed quietly to himself, relaxed, as if nothing in the world could concern him right now.
The black suits stepped forward in unison.
It wasn’t aggressive, but naturally it was intimidating as their eyes immediately landed on Elara.
They tensed subtly.
Even among them, trained and composed as they were, the presence of the so-called Blood Demon wasn’t something they could ignore.
Still, they remained professional, with one speaking for the group.
"Ethan Crowe. Elara Veyne," he stated flatly.
His voice was calm and measured, but carried an undeniable weight.
"You have received a compulsory summons to the Association Headquarters."
Silence followed.
Mark blinked.
"A what?"
Elara frowned slightly, clearly confused.
’A summons? Are we in the 1800s?’
Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, while Mark immediately grew tense.
"This about last night?" He asked, his tone sharp. "Because-"
"We are not here to discuss," the man interrupted calmly. "Only to escort."
Mark clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking toward the stairs.
Ethan had yet to show up, but when he did, he couldn’t help but jump to conclusions when he saw all of these black suits after last night...
