Evil MC's NTR Harem

An hour later, the convoy reached the outskirts of Ross's estate. The mansion loomed in the distance, hidden deep in the wilderness.

Even from afar, it was a sight to behold—a sprawling property that screamed extravagance.

The massive gates were guarded by state-of-the-art security, cameras swiveling in every direction, motion sensors lining the perimeter.

Kirito's sharp gaze swept over the scene, noting every detail. The towering walls, the carefully manicured grounds, the armed guards patrolling discreetly—it was a fortress in every sense of the word.

"Impressive," Kirito muttered, though his tone dripped with disdain.

"A man who hides in luxury. Typical."

The SUVs came to a halt a few hundred meters from the gates. Kirito stepped out, the cool night air biting against his face.

He adjusted his tailored suit with practiced precision, his movements slow and deliberate.

The quiet rustle of his bodyguards preparing for action filled the silence, their presence a stark reminder of the force Kirito had brought with him.

He turned to his second-in-command, a sharp-eyed man named Hayato.

"Have the perimeter secured. I don't want any surprises."

Hayato gave a curt nod. "Understood, sir. What's the approach?"

Kirito's lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. "We knock. And if they don't open the door, we break it down."

As Hayato relayed the orders, Kirito stared at the mansion in the distance. He could almost feel Ross's smugness radiating from the property, his arrogance palpable even from miles away.

The thought of it ignited something primal within Kirito—a burning need to crush this man beneath his heel.

"This isn't just about my family," Kirito murmured to himself, his voice low. "This is about showing him that actions have consequences. That no one crosses me and walks away."

The bodyguards fanned out, blending into the shadows as they began their sweep. Kirito remained at the forefront, his presence exuding authority and menace. He wasn't here to negotiate.

He wasn't here to plead.

He was here to make Ross Oakley regret ever crossing his path.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The knocks on Ross's doors were like explosions, reverberating through the still night.

Kirito and his team didn't bother using the gates or asking for permission. They had bypassed the security with ease, employing advanced, high-end hacking techniques.

With fifteen seasoned men at his back, Kirito approached the door with purpose and urgency.

When the massive doors finally creaked open, it wasn't Ross or any of his girls who greeted them. Instead, it was Brandon—a towering figure wearing his usual demon mask.

"Your names, please?" Brandon's voice was calm but commanding, cutting through the tense atmosphere.

The group hesitated, taken aback not only by his imposing presence but by his peculiar choice of attire. Who in their right mind wore an ugly demon mask on an ordinary day?

Yet it wasn't just the mask.

Brandon's impressive height and bulky frame made it clear he was no mere doorman. His aura alone spoke volumes.

Kirito's men looked to him, waiting for his lead.

"Kirito Hirose," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension. "I'm here for my wife and daughter. Please tell them that I'm here to take them home."

His tone carried authority, but he refrained from being confrontational—at least for now.

Though no one in the mansion could escape tonight's visit, Kirito was determined to keep things diplomatic unless absolutely necessary.

His team wasn't just a group of amateurs; they were skilled men, armed and ready, with more stationed around the mansion to ensure no one slipped through their net.

Brandon's gaze lingered on Kirito for a moment before he nodded.

"Please take a seat. I'll inform my master of your arrival."

His voice was deep, unnervingly calm, and carried a weight that sent a shiver down the spines of even the most experienced men.

It wasn't loud, yet its eerie composure was unsettling, as though Brandon feared nothing and no one.

As Brandon turned and walked away, the tension in the air eased—though only slightly. A few of Kirito's men exhaled deeply, some muttering under their breaths as they relaxed their shoulders.

Only now did they realize they'd been holding themselves too tightly, their instincts screaming danger from the moment Brandon had opened the door.

Kirito, however, remained motionless. His sharp eyes followed Brandon's retreating form, every muscle in his body coiled with readiness. Something about the man didn't sit right with him.

The calm, the towering physique, the unwavering composure—it all hinted at a predator lying in wait, just biding its time.

Nobody sat down despite Brandon's earlier suggestion. Every man in Kirito's group stayed on edge, their hands hovering near holstered weapons.

They were seasoned fighters, used to high-stakes operations, but even they felt a creeping unease they couldn't shake.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long.

The heavy double doors opened once more, and Ross entered the room with a swagger that bordered on arrogance. His expression was casual, almost playful, as though he were greeting old friends.

Beside him walked Reina and Mari. Reina's head was slightly bowed, her face pale, while Mari clung to the hem of her skirt, her hands trembling slightly. Your journey continues with My Virtual Library Empire

It was obvious that she feared for Kirito and his party's wellbeing tonight.

Behind them, Brandon reappeared, looming like a silent specter. His steps were unnervingly quiet for a man his size, his movements precise and deliberate.

Ross clapped his hands together as he surveyed the room.

"Oh? Guests. I love guests." His grin was wide, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that betrayed his amusement.

"Especially uninvited ones. Is anyone hungry? I made a sumptuous dinner earlier. Brandon here can serve it to everyone."

His voice was light and warm, as though he genuinely intended to host them for a friendly meal. The absurdity of it was enough to make a few of Kirito's men exchange incredulous looks.

"Is he for real?" one of them muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Most of the group scoffed, their expressions twisted with contempt.