Watch Men Novels & Stories

"You do know I'm a really open-minded guy, right? I mean, I wouldn't mind giving our women all the freedom they deserve, despite the security threats and all. But let's not forget who's in charge here. And I'm all about women's power and all that shit." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Just get to the fucking point." He hesitated, rolling his neck. "Well, I love my wife, I'd forgive her for anything, but if she pulled some shit like this, I'd lose my shit. I'd absolutely fucking go crazy taking down every single one of those, just for the thought that people get to see what belongs to me and only me." I sighed. "I have no fucking idea what Allegra did, but I hope you both figure it the fuck out."

Could you play the next part of the video and zoom in on the man's face, please? The staff did what I asked. When the picture stopped, I said slowly, "This isn't my dad, Jethro. It's my personal driver, Daniel Chapman."

Agents moved efficiently, leaving no room for the chaos he once thrived on. I couldn’t help but study him, the man who had caused so much disruption in our lives. The fear in his eyes was a stark contrast to the confidence he had carried so smugly for months. It was a small, almost vindictive satisfaction to see that even the most calculated manipulator could be undone by preparation, truth, and patience. Ethan’s voice drew me back. “Let’s focus. Our job isn’t over until the arrest is complete and all protocols are followed. Stay sharp.”

I believe the organization will handle this fairly. Naturally, Marvin wouldn't admit to it. Otherwise, he'd be the one losing his job. "It wasn't me who filmed it. Why would I film you? That makes no sense. Someone merely reported it to me, and as the one in charge of discipline and professional conduct, I couldn't just turn a blind eye. "Wait, Joseph, don't change the subject. We all know that this woman isn't your wife—" Joseph interrupted Marvin. "Now I have to prove my wife is indeed my wife? You keep claiming she isn't my wife. Then let me ask you this. How do you plan to prove she isn't?"

Vincent wanted me to spare him? Who did he think he was? I stared at the ridiculous question on the screen and sent him the address of a cafe. Half an hour later, I watched the man I had loved for five years appear before me. He looked like a stray dog, his appearance haggard and worn. There were heavy dark circles under his eyes, his stubble was unshaven, and his entire being radiated the dejection of someone who had reached the end of his rope.

Poking at my buttons and he was doing just fine because my temper was rising. “Interested or not, I swear I’ll—” “Do what? Hit me again? I appreciate your sudden interest in my dick but I think I'd rather have those red lips of yours on it.” That was it. I raised my fist, ready to punch that smug face of his. And then— Ping! The elevator doors slid open. I froze mid-swing, my fist still hovering in the air. Standing outside were two men in suits and a woman with her hair pulled back.

, Jessie said. I sighed and took a deep breath and, and then opened the door. There were 4 men sitting on the couch in the living room laughing and talking, all of them dressed in a black suit. They all seemed to pause as I walked in. They were staring at me, with a look of shock on their faces. I took the opportunity to study them all. They looked, honestly very very hot. More than the last time I saw them. "Blu?", one of them called breaking the silence.

Daniel’s instruction was to let him wait, to let the cameras drink in his alone-ness, his vulnerability. I watched him pull out his phone, checking for a signal. He was worried. He was thinking about Maya. He was everything Daniel said he wasn’t—a good man in a bad situation. And I had led him here. On a small monitor beside me, a different scene played out. It was a live news broadcast. A polished studio. And there, sitting calmly behind a desk, was Daniel. He wore a perfectly tailored suit. He looked directly into the camera, his expression one of pained sincerity.

— Elsewhere… Rena pressed a blood-soaked rag to her shoulder and grinned into the darkness. “Phase One complete,” she whispered. A man stepped from the shadows. Tall. Cold. Don Vincente. He handed her a folder. “Then let’s ruin them both.” — 06:43 A.M. The video in high definition burned through their eyes. Cain stood frozen in front of the flat-screen, jaw tight, arms folded. Saxon was on the couch behind him, shirtless, lips parted, watching himself on the screen with wide, stunned eyes. The video played on loop.

“What will you do?” He looked at her, steady and unshaken. “I will protect you.” It was not a promise—it was a fact. “What if there are too many of them?” “I will still protect you.” “What if they are stronger?” “My answer remains the same.” Fiora fell silent. Vael lifted a hand and brushed her cheek gently. “I do not say it to reassure you. I say it because it is what I will do. No matter what.” **" Far away, in a place of shadows and screens, a man sat before a wall of monitors. On one display, the drone’s final transmission had just ended. But in the last second—her face had been captured, clear and unmistakable.