novel-bin Chapter 290: The First Step
Chapter 290: The First Step
Nash’s brain had just short-circuited his sexual fury. His two massive hands locked onto Victoria’s lubricated hips, freezing his monumental cock right at the entrance of her slit dripping with soap and warm water.Victoria let out a moan of pure frustration. Her breasts swayed with her ragged breathing. She tried to thrust her hips forward, pressing her mound against the base of his cock to restart the lubricated friction that was awakening something new inside her, but the 6’3" giant had turned into a block of marble.
A flash of genius had swept away the haze of his lust. Nash let out a low chuckle.
"Harlan Reiss..." he breathed, his voice vibrating lower than the arena’s pipes. "That fat pig has officially just signed his death warrant. It’s over, Victoria. We’ve won."
Victoria frowned, her wet sapphires shining with a mix of confusion and annoyance. The water continued rinsing the oil along her perfect hips, creating a moist trickle between her thighs. She felt completely blue-balled, her body burning, suspended on the edge of an orgasm he had just denied her.
Yet she remained the boss. A mature woman with too much experience to stammer like a schoolgirl. She hadn’t expected this locker room discussion to escalate into such sexual debauchery, but Nash’s aura had a spectacular effect on women and had made her lose control.
Now that the thread had been broken, she forced herself to piece her dignity back together. She straightened her golden torso, forcing her cold and haughty attitude to take over again, despite her hardened nipples still brushing against the giant’s chest.
"What are you talking about, Nash? Stop with the riddles," she said, her tone sharp and commanding. "What does Harlan’s return change about my licensing problem?"
Nash didn’t answer directly. The secret remained locked behind his predator-green eyes. For him, the fact that Hector had chosen Harlan to take over the Midnight Rest changed everything. It was the flaw. The fatal tactical mistake the King of the Rats had been waiting for in the shadows.
He slowly raised his rough, wet palm, sliding his massive fingers under Victoria’s perfect chin. He gently forced her to lift her face toward him, his drooling cock bumping against her flat lower belly in one final physical provocation.
"Hector was untouchable up there," Nash murmured in a low voice that sent a shiver through the blonde. "But Harlan? Harlan handles his business in my territory."
His smile grew darker, almost cruel toward the manager’s pride.
"However, Victoria... you’re going to have to pay the price for this plan. Get ready, beautiful... because I’m going to ask you to crawl."
The next evening, the smell in the lower locker room of Hangar 47 hadn’t changed. It was a little emptier than usual since the girls had gone back to Jaz’s place, but it was the same old shit.
It stank of cold sweat, cheap liniment bought in bulk, and the stubborn dampness seeping from the concrete joints.
But tonight, the room felt smaller. The silence was thick and filthy, broken only by the steady drip of a leaking pipe in the corner.
Just the night before, Blacklist had handed the Red Serpents a public execution. And yet, for the five guys sitting on the wooden benches, that triumph tasted like ash.
Mac stared at the floor, elbows planted on his knees, his hands trembling slightly. It wasn’t fatigue — it was pure humiliation. The night before, Nash hadn’t just ignored them on the timber; he had erased them from existence. He had announced their uselessness, and guess what? They had spent forty-eight minutes serving as ghosts, as legal placeholders on the court just to validate the roster quota.
"It doesn’t mean shit anymore, man..." Mac finally said. "What the fuck are we even doing on this team? Nothing."
One of the NPCs slammed his metal locker door shut. The hollow bang made everyone jump, echoing like a gunshot in the room full of defeated men.
"And where do we go, Mac?" he spat, poverty written all over his face. "You think another underground club is gonna sign us after yesterday’s shitshow? The scouts saw that we didn’t even exist. We’re done. Dead on the circuit."
"I’d rather starve to death on the concrete in the alley, mouth open in the gutter, than keep getting humiliated every single night," Mac shot back, standing up abruptly, his face twisted with resentment. "Staying here is just waiting for Nash to replace us for real sooner or later. And if he ever finds out where the leak came from..."
He stopped himself just in time. Jinzo was already giving him a glacial look. Dealing with a dead weight like this was exhausting.
In his corner, Jinzo hadn’t moved an inch. Usually so quick to run his mouth and lead any revolt, always ready to rally the guys with his arrogant little-player attitude, he was now slumped, back hunched against the wall.
His face was tight, jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. He was being eaten alive from the inside by black frustration and helpless hatred toward the titan who had humiliated him in front of everyone.
His fingers nervously scratched the worn leather of his sports bag. The idea of running away hung in the air, but it wasn’t that simple. He was the fucking captain. He had the respect of the team, the hottest girl. He could have been a successful man in this world of losers.
If it wasn’t for that bastard...
A heavy, expensive engine rumble rose from the depths of the underground parking lot, filtering through the small high window overlooking the VIP access ramp.
Mac froze, his eyes drawn to the sound of an engine that had no business in the filth of Hangar 47.
All five pairs of eyes turned toward the opaque pane of glass.
It was Victoria’s black sedan. A beast of armored bodywork with sleek, dark lines, gliding over the damp concrete like a shark in murky waters.
Through the windshield, Nash’s silhouette was unmistakable. Even seated, his size took up half the cabin.
Behind the wheel, Victoria drove her machine with icy calm, her face hidden behind her usual black sunglasses, lips sealed. In the back, a third silhouette was visible through the tinted windows: Dahlia.
The Bums stood frozen, watching the luxury car’s taillights fade and disappear into the sticky evening mist.
The contrast was unbearably violent. Nash and Victoria were moving toward their own future, toward the high spheres of power and manipulation, while they remained stuck here, condemned to rot in the mud of their mediocrity.
Mac clenched his fists, a wave of pure rage rising in his throat.
"Look at them..." he muttered, his voice trembling with hatred. "They’re leaving. They’re off handling their big-shot business while we rot here."
Jinzo finally looked up, his empty gaze meeting Mac’s. His voice, once so sharp, was now just a broken hiss.
"Mac. I think we’re gonna reach out to her. I’ve had enough. It’s over for us here."
The gap had been dug. Permanently.
Inside the sedan, the atmosphere was stifling despite the air conditioning blowing cool air that smelled of new leather. The plush comfort of the cabin made the outside world look even more sordid. Beyond the reinforced windows, the Slag-Works district rolled past like an old industrial horror film: abandoned factories with rusted structures, black clouds of soot hanging in the air.
In the back, Dahlia was drenched in sweat. Her fingers dug into the leather seat, her eyes wide as she alternated between staring at the back of Nash’s massive neck and Victoria’s invisible gaze in the rearview mirror. She couldn’t take it anymore. Paranoia was eating her alive.
"This is a fucking terrible idea, Nash..." she finally blurted out in a panic. "Pure insanity. Yesterday’s leak set Apex’s entire network on fire. Anything even remotely connected to Victoria or Blacklist is going to light up red on their radars. The second we walk through the door of the Midnight Rest, it’s going to reek of espionage from a mile away! How could a guy like him not see the trap? He’s going to line us up and have his gorillas smoke us before we even open our mouths!"
Nash didn’t move an inch. His crossed arms pressed against his black jacket, his green eyes fixed on the dark alleys ahead.
"Calm down, Dahlia. You worry too much. Harlan is a field guy, not an Upperworld network engineer. He thinks he’s smart because Hector handed him the keys to the pigsty, but guys like that blind themselves with their own ego. I’ll know exactly what he’s worth the second I see his ugly face."
He glanced at the rearview mirror.
"Your job is to pay attention and watch my first reaction when we see him. The slightest micro-expression, the slightest twitch of my lips. If I decide it’s good like we discussed, we execute the plan to the letter. Simple as that."
Nash turned his gaze from the mirror to observe Victoria’s profile. She drove with clinical precision, her long manicured fingers tapping lightly on the real leather steering wheel. Under the sweeping neon lights from outside, her golden skin and blonde hair made her look like an unreal creature lost among the trash.
"And you?" Nash asked. "You studied your fallen queen part? Because facing a pig like Reiss, you’re going to have to swallow your pride. You’re going to have to give him exactly what he wants to see: a broken woman coming to cry for an escape."
Victoria didn’t flinch. She didn’t even turn her head, keeping her sapphire eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. But a cold, absolutely confident smile slowly stretched her perfect lips.
"Nash, please," she said. "How do you think I got to the top of a financial empire multiple times in this shark world? You think I don’t know how to manipulate the ego of a power-hungry male? I know exactly what kind of tears a piece of trash like him wants to see. You do your gutter rat part, and I’ll do mine."
Nash smiled.
"Then let’s go."
Victoria floored the accelerator. The sedan’s engine roared, the wide tires screeching on the wet, oily concrete.
The car plunged into the sticky, suffocating darkness of the Red Zone.