Chapter 151 Attack On Lana

11:34 PM.

The soft glow of three monitors illuminated Liam’s room, casting flickering shadows on the wall. His eyes, red-rimmed from hours of intense focus, were locked on the screen before him.

Balance: $1,203,876.42

He leaned back in his chair, chest rising and falling with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His lips curled into a slow, triumphant smirk as he exhaled sharply and reached out to kill the system.

Click.

"Beat that, you fucker," he muttered under his breath, clearly referring to Dickson, who had walked away with a $200k profit and a smug look earlier in the day. Liam just crossed the million-dollar line.

He stretched in his chair, arms raised, body aching from sitting too long. "Damn, I need sleep..." he murmured to himself.

But just as his limbs relaxed, a sharp sound broke the silence—a muffled thud, followed by what sounded like a crash coming from the direction of Lana’s house.

Liam stilled. His brows furrowed.

Then he sighed, covering his face with his hand.

"Her parents must be at it again..." he muttered. The yelling, the fighting—it was part of her routine pain. She’d said she’d come over later today though, but she never did.

He leaned back again, trying to shake it off. Maybe she just needed space.

Another bang echoed, louder this time.

Liam straightened instantly, his head snapping in the direction of the noise. "Pretty wild fight..." he whispered—but the moment the words left his lips, something didn’t sit right.

Then it hit him.

His eyes widened.

Her parents were gone.

Lana told him earlier this week—they had left town for a funeral, some distant relative she barely remembered. They wouldn’t be back for at least two weeks.

So what the hell was going on in that house?

A sudden chill ran down his spine. He didn’t hesitate.

Liam darted to his window, sliding it open silently. The cool night air swept into the room as he leaned out to get a clearer look.

And then he saw it.

Three shadows inside her home.

Two were larger, masculine, shifting in the dim lights of the living room. The third—smaller, frail, trembling—was Lana.

His blood went cold.

He didn’t wait another second.

With one fluid motion, Liam vaulted through his window, his body moving with deadly grace as he landed quietly on the grass below. The impact was silent, his movements seamless—a perfect execution of Dragon Step, refined through combat and system mastery.

He sprinted toward Lana’s house, a silent shadow in the night.

His mind raced with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain—who were they? Why her?—but his body moved on instinct.

---

Inside the house, Lana screamed.

Her voice was hoarse from crying, her hands flailing helplessly as she was dragged by her hair across the hardwood floor. Tears streamed down her face as she kicked at the ground, trying to resist, trying to break free, but the man dragging her was too strong.

He threw her like she weighed nothing. Her body hit the floor hard, the impact making her cry out in pain.

She tried to crawl back, her elbows bruising, knees scraped, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.

One of the men stepped forward, pulling something from his coat—a small bottle filled with a dark, bubbling liquid.

He crouched down to her level, eyes glittering with malice.

"You know who this came from, right?" he said, his voice low and venomous. "He gave you warning after warning. You ignored him."

Lana’s eyes widened in horror as her breath caught.

"His final words," the man continued, unscrewing the cap of the bottle, "were simple. If he couldn’t have your body... he’d make sure no one else would."

She gasped and tried to crawl farther, her hands slipping uselessly on the polished floor.

The man let a single drop from the bottle fall onto a piece of rubber he pulled from his pocket.

Lana watched in horror as the liquid hissed—and then ate through it like acid.

Her mind screamed as the truth slammed into her.

They weren’t here to kill her.

They were here to ruin her face.

Her beauty.

Her future.

"No... no please..." she cried, shaking her head frantically, her back hitting the wall behind her as she had nowhere left to go.

One of the men moved forward, holding her down.

The other raised the bottle slowly, deliberately.

The droplet of corrosive liquid hung in the air for a fraction of a second before gravity claimed it. Lana’s breath caught in her throat as it fell toward her cheek. Her eyes squeezed shut in horror, preparing for the searing agony.

But it never came.

Instead, she heard a sizzle—a violent hiss as the liquid made contact. Her eyes snapped open.

Liam’s hand was in front of her face.

The drop had landed on his palm.

She stared in shock as white smoke curled upward from his burning skin. His expression didn’t flinch—no pain, no hesitation. His jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed cold and focused.

In a blur of movement, Liam snapped his other hand forward, snatching the bottle with lightning speed. The man who had held it hadn’t even seen Liam move—one moment the weapon was in his grasp, the next, it was gone.

"What the f—" the attacker barely got the words out before Liam took a step forward and emptied the bottle’s contents right into his face.

The liquid splashed across his skin.

The reaction was immediate.

Smoke rose in thick, curling waves as the man screamed in raw agony. He stumbled back, clawing at his face, his legs giving out beneath him as he crumpled to the floor. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air. His cries echoed through the house, grotesque and panicked.

Lana gasped, still trembling, her wide eyes fixed on the man writhing on the floor.

But it wasn’t over.

The second man, who had been restraining her just moments ago, now lunged forward with a blade. A cold, sharp glint in his eyes. The knife came fast, aimed directly for Liam’s chest.

"LIAM!" Lana screamed.

Without thinking, she threw herself between the two men, grabbing the attacker’s wrist with all her strength, trying to stop the blade. Her muscles strained. She had no idea if she was strong enough to stop him, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t let Liam get hurt. Not like this.

Liam could have dodged easily.

He didn’t need saving.

But when he saw her step in like that—unarmed, shaking, and still full of courage—something inside him stirred. A subtle warmth bloomed in his chest.

She’d put herself between him and a blade.

The attacker snarled and glared at Lana. "Get off me, bitch!" he barked.

He raised his hand to strike her—

But the slap never landed.

Liam’s hand was there again, catching the man’s wrist mid-air. His grip was like steel—calm, unflinching. The man looked down at his arm, confused.

He was 6’6", broad and muscular, towering over Liam’s 6’2" frame.

And yet... Liam’s face showed no sign of effort. His eyes were cool. Steady.

The attacker’s brows furrowed. He tried to pull away.

Nothing.

His arm might as well have been caught in a vice.

Liam’s other hand slid around Lana’s waist as he pulled her protectively to his chest, shielding her with his body. He didn’t say a word.

Then, with the slightest shift in posture, Liam raised his leg and delivered a single, clean kick.

The man’s body launched backward.

He flew across the room, skipping across the floor like a ragdoll before slamming into a wall and collapsing in a groaning heap. The knife clattered uselessly beside him.

Lana looked up at Liam in stunned silence.

He hadn’t even looked like he was trying.

The man coughed, trying to stand, but his trembling arms gave out beneath him. One look at Liam’s calm, unwavering stance, and he knew.

This wasn’t a fight he could win.

Panicked, he scrambled over to the other man—his partner still clutching his ruined face and howling in agony. Smoke was still rising from his skin.

He threw the injured man’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him toward the door, not daring to look back.

Liam let them go.

Not because he couldn’t end them—but because he needed answers first.

As the door slammed behind them, silence fell inside the house.

Lana turned around in Liam’s arms, her body still shivering. Her eyes, wet with tears, searched his face.

And then, without a word, she wrapped her arms tightly around his torso and buried her face in his chest. Her body trembled with every breath, but she held onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Liam’s arms wrapped around her again, this time slowly, gently.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice low and firm. "I’m here."

She didn’t say anything, but he felt the way her fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

She believed him.