The Return Of Killian Dante

Deadmoo.

A terrifying place, the most dangerous prison earth has ever seen.

It wasn't a pre-sketched or planned architectural design. It was a solitary confinement made of jagged rocky walls, a permanent abode for beasts among humans: Heartless criminals, Gangsters, Drug lords, Corrupt politicians, sleazy politicians, dangerous assassins and people that committed crimes too bloody for headlines.

They're not the regular prisoners— They're called THE DOOMERS.

Frankly— they are doomed.

Because,

No one in history had ever walked out of Deadmoo alive.

But today, one man was breaking that history, walking out a free man.

Killian Dante.

The name that freezes bone and folds one thousand dangerous criminals in fear.

The iron door of Cell 0001 opened with a creak. The Warden stepped back in caution, two officers flanked behind him were visibly shaken despite training. Their hands hovered over weapons tucked in their belt but they knew weapons were useless against a man like Killian Dante.

The creaking sound pierced across the silence. Bone chilling.

"He's coming."

Dead silence. The kind that announced the coming of someone powerful.

Boots thumped the floor softly. Killian Dante stepped out, smile figured, tall, back hair scattered over his face. He looked ordinary, but stature isn't a measure of power.

Killian Dante is the most powerful man in the prison.

Everyone paused their breath.

Killian stopped at the centre of the vast hall, looking at everyone with steady eyes.

"Today," he started, his voice carrying across the hall filled with one thousand doomers. "I'm leaving—"

Breathes hitched.

Silence returned like it was never lost.

He continued, voice carrying across the wall in steady beats.

"When I walk out of this place, do not cause chaos.” He said, looking at their faces. “Behave."

A pause. His voice hardened slightly.

"But if I hear that any one of you causes trouble...." Killian didn't finish as though the weight of repercussion couldn't be pronounced with words.

And the prisoners knew better.

Breathes caught. Collective. low.

Then it happened once.

One thousand dangerous prisoners crumbled to their knees. Heads bowed to the floor, their voice chorusing,

"We won't cause trouble, King Killian! We will always obey your rules."

The warden gasped, the officers stiffened at the back. What they just witnessed wasn’t forced compliance— it was absolute submission.

Killian Dante's name didn't just carry fear across Deadmoo due to his extraordinary fighting skill but also because he could resurrect the dead which was why he was given the name— THE MIRACLE HAND.

Something flickered across his face. Subtle Somber. The quiet old man that taught him everything and disappeared one night till this moment.

Master Chen.

Everyone called him a creep because he never related with anyone in the prison, always sitting quietly at the corner counting beads with head down.

But Killian saw him differently. Master Chen taught him everything: Martial arts that the world had completely forgotten, medical knowledge that modern ideology couldn't explain and survival training that makes you defeat even death.

"Good." He nodded, voice quieter now. "Now I shall take my leave."

A man bolted out from the crowd. An old man, sixty years, full grey hair, his knee connected with the floor sharply. Tears clouded his eyes as he presented something priceless.

A long rusted key.

"I Know this is small, my king" He said, presenting the key to Killian. "You deserve something more valuable. But please, I'll have a happy death if you collect it from me. This is a key to an ancient crest containing invaluable Fortunes worth more than billions. Please accept it, King."

Gasps!

The Warden exchanged stunned glances with officers.

Who offers gold pleading for its acceptance?

Before they could process it completely, another man dashed forward, and went on his knee.

"I have nothing to offer, King,” He said, voice shaking, “but I have beautiful daughters. If you marry the five of them, I'll have a peaceful life."

Another man came out.

"This is the Grimwood family seal. All my Estates, I'm Giving you everything. You saved my life countless times and you deserve everything, King. Please accept it."

One after the other, they offered priceless items that most people who have collected immediately but Killian watched the items without any interest.

"I will not accept them." He said flatly.

The simple clause broke the men.

The warden gasped.

Killian turned to them, pointing a finger at all of them. "I just want one thing from all of you—" He said, "—to live in peace with one another. Train relentlessly like you're preparing for a war so when you walk out here alive, the world will bow for you.”

Then he moved.

Silence. The kind of silence that settled after something central was removed from a system.

Then.

"King Killian! King Killian!!"

1000 voices vibrated the prison wall.

Outside, the breeze touched his face like a quiet welcome after 720 days of convicting himself for the crime his wife committed.

720 days, he walked in as an ordinary man but coming out, he'd become something— The most powerful man in the world.

He could have walked out a long time, but he needed time and space to master every skill he'd been taught to become invincible in the world.

And he succeeded.

Now, the king is out.

Only one thought was on his mind. Cassandra. His wife. Her crime led him here. Murder.

A smile touched his lips.

"Finally, I'll be seeing you again. Cassy."

Suddenly, fleets of black expensive cars— six of them suddenly pulled over at the curb with a screech, cutting through his thoughts.

The door of the main ride—black Bentley Mulsanne swung open and a woman in a sharp blazer but tired face jumped out of the car, strutting to meet him. Bodyguards flanked her back.

Killian narrowed his eyes, his expression calm but curious.

Surprisingly, the woman dropped to her knees.

Who is she?

Killian looked down to see tears in her eyes.

"Please save my daughter, please..." She cried, clinging to Killian's trouser, unbothered that her designer dress was kneeling in dust.

She continued with a shaking voice.

"I— I am Sandra Whitmore. My father had told me a lot about you… your unparalleled capability…please….the doctors had done everything. You're the only one who can save her—"she choked on her voice, sobbing now.

"I—"

Her head snapped up, CEO Whitmore group on her knee.

"Please. I'll do anything. Anything.”

The trained bodyguards stiffened behind.

"I'll do anything. Please." Desperation burned in her throat.

Killian let out a soft sigh.

"Stand." He said.

Sandra Whitmore jumped to her feet.

"Thank you. Thank you..."Relief flooded her face.

"I will help you,” Killian said, “and I don't need anything in return. Tell me the address. I'll come when I finish my business."

"No..I'll come..I'll come to you myself whenever you're ready... anywhere." Sandra countered gently.

"Tell me the address. I'll come." Killian repeated firmly. "I have something important to attend to. Do not grieve. She'll LIVE."

She nodded frantically. "St. Augustus private hospital. 88 Windsor Avenue. Please.."

She left without asking, without doubting if Killian would keep his word to save her daughter because she had been told by her father who he exactly he was.

The convoy vanished from the street leaving dust and tears of Sandra Whitmore behind.

Less than one minute, a burgundy sports car tore through the street, nearly ran over his leg over.

"What the—"

The car pulled over at the side, a woman in sharp black blazer stepped down from the driver side, strutting forward, heels clacking tarmac frantically. Her expression twisted in distaste like she shouldn't even be here in the first place. A Manilla envelope swung in her hand like a sword.

Killian's eyes narrowed in familiarity. "Sawyer West. Cassandra's assistant—"

His heart lifted. Cassandra had kept surveillance on him? and decided to welcome him?

Sawyer West stopped in his front, keeping distance from him.

"You broke out,” She sneered. “Good for you, Mr. Dante.."

"Cassandra sent you to pick me—"

"She did. But not the way you're thinking." She cut through his words rudely. "She asked me to deliver this. Sign it. Mrs. Cassandra doesn't need violence in her life." She slapped the manilla envelope to his chest.

Killian was confused.

"What are you talking about?"

She turned back. Lips curled in utter disgust.

"Mrs. Cassandra won't marry a criminal. Details in the envelope. And don't cause trouble for her. She has a lot to deal with now. Just leave peacefully."

And she was gone, leaving a message that Killian didn't quite comprehend with an envelope that would destroy everything. But he was yet to realize it until he unsealed it and the heading glared back at him.

DIVORCE PAPERS.