One month had passed since the monsters last set foot in Draxton High, and the world outside had only grown hungrier.
Wars escalated on three continents. Borders bled daily. Sanctions collapsed into open arms races. Governments toppled like rotting fruit. The demand for bullets, blades, drones, and denial — the kind money could buy — had never been higher.
Every explosion, every conscription notice, every burning city translated directly into wire transfers hitting Krossvale accounts.
Kai's offshore accounts ballooned as new war fronts ignited. Governments and rebel factions alike funneled money into his channels, desperate for precision rifles, modular assault platforms, armored transports, and crates of serialized ammunition scrubbed from every registry. Shipments moved at night — sealed containers of smart scopes, recoil-dampened carbines, belt-fed machine guns, and anti-armor launchers routed through neutral ports. He supplied both banners without prejudice; flags changed, demand did not. Every ceasefire collapsed into another purchase order. Every border skirmish translated into bulk requests for spare parts and field kits. The louder artillery thundered, the deeper his warehouses emptied — and refilled with cash.
Kai Viramont Krossvale's ledgers glowed red with profit.
In the marble-floored cavern of Kai Viramont Krossvale's private mansion , crystal glasses clinked. The six brothers lounged across leather sofas and obsidian tables, shirts half-unbuttoned, smoke curling from cigars. Laughter rolled low and vicious.
Kai sat at the head, legs crossed, one finger tracing the rim of his glass. His face — sharp jaw, thick dark brows, eyes like polished obsidian — betrayed nothing but quiet satisfaction.
"You boys have pleased me."
Silence dropped instantly. Boys stopped mid-sentence.
"We are here — all of this — because of your devotion." Kai's voice remained even, almost gentle. "So tell me. What do you want as reward?"
Damon leaned forward, scar slicing his left brow, voice dropping to that filthy whisper he loved using. "Innocent ones. Schoolgirls. Let us have a few… inside the school. Just a couple hours."
Lucas barked a laugh. "Fuck yes. Let us play inside the walls for once."
Leon rolled his sleeves higher, scarred forearms flexing. "We won't go far. Promise."
Victor's eyes glittered behind his calm mask. "We won't tell Vernon. He won't be bothered about the matter if he doesn't know."
Ren laughed, soft and ugly. "Yeah. No cuckblock from the big baby."
"Shut up, Ren," Victor snapped, buzzed sides catching the light, eyes calculating even now.
They all turned to Kai, pleading in the way predators plead — hungry, impatient, already half-hard at the thought.
Kai went silent. Long enough that the room felt colder, the air heavier with unspoken hunger.
He studied them—eyes slow, deliberate, dissecting every flicker of desire that betrayed their composure. Their breathing had shallowed; pupils dilated; fingers twitched toward skin they weren't yet allowed to touch.
Inside his mind the thoughts moved like cold steel gears locking into place:
*They're drowning in it. Raw, obscene lust—thick, heavy.*
*It's useful. Necessary, even.*
*If I don't feed it, direct it, leash it… their control will fracture. They'll become sloppy. Dangerous. Unpredictable.*
*I must satisfy this filthy, bottomless hunger of theirs—precisely. On my terms. Until they're too sated, too obedient to remember what independence felt like.*
*Only then do they stay mine.*
A faint, predatory curve touched his lips.
Then, he replied quietly:
"Okay."
Cheers erupted—raw, animal. Fists banged the table. Glasses raised.
---
Hours later black Range Rovers rolled up to the wrought-iron gates of Draxton High like funeral cars.
Students froze in hallways. Teachers vanished into offices. Whispers died mid-sentence.
The Krossvale brothers walked in like hungry wolves.
Ira's art classroom was in the fourth floor and the literature classroom on the second floor.
Second floor, Literature classroom.
Ira sat near the back-left window beside Rina. Across the front aisle Alina sat with Aria.
Today, because of the homework sharing, Alina and Ira didn't sat together.
Alina sat with Aria in the front row, Ira sat with Rina and Zara in the back row.
Viana doodled in the margin of her notebook. Celia chewed her pen.
The door banged open.
Kai entered first, calm as death. Behind him the others fanned out — Lucas cracking knuckles, Damon smiling like he already tasted skin, Leon loosening his tie, Victor scanning faces, Ren pulling on fresh black gloves.
As one, every student rose with a heavy, scraping thud of chairs. Silence gripped the room. Faces pale, breaths shallow, hearts hammered wildly against ribs—raw anxiety pulsing through them like thunder in the stillness.
"All the girls. Out. In the balcony. Move. " Kai commanded. "Boys and teachers — stay seated."
Then chairs scraped. Bags dropped. Feet shuffled.
All the girls moved out— jerky, automatic, legs shaking... Boys stared at the floor, fists clenched uselessly. The literature teacher — middle-aged — opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything.
They reached the second-floor school balcony, already deserted—emptied by the other classes from the fear of Krossvales.
Lucas cracked his neck . "All the girls. On your knees. Now."
The girls dropped to their knees on the cold concrete balcony. Wind tugged at skirts and hair. Tears already streaked some faces.
The five monsters sauntered out behind them, spreading like wolves circling their prey.
Ira obeyed too — knees hitting stone beside Rina. Her heart pounded so violently it felt as if it might burst from her ribs.
By some mercy of God, she had ended up near the back of the line.
The boys were focused on the girls in front—so, they didn't notice her.
The line of trembling girls stood shoulder to shoulder, breaths hitching in unison, as the five monsters closed in—circling, looming, their shadows stretching over the girls .
Comments started almost immediately.
"Pretty little things."
"Look at those thighs trembling."
"Bet she's never even touched herself."
"Which one will be the best to break, you think?"
Ira kept her eyes down. She was near the end of the row — far enough their direct gaze hadn't landed yet.
Tears slipped down from Ira's eyes.
Rina's hand squeezed Ira's wrist under the row of knees. She whispered, voice cracking:
"Cry slow. Quiet. Or they come for us next."
"Look at them," Lucas rumbled. "All prim and trembling. Bet their little panties are soaked already from fear."
Damon crouched in front of one girl, fingers brushing her cheek. "You look hot, baby. Delicious."
Nasty laughter. Lewd comments. Hands adjusting crotches openly.
The grabbing started without warning.
Girls screamed, were yanked up by hair and wrists, dragged inside the empty classroom. Into stairwells. Into the art supply closet down the hall.
Doors slammed. Muffled sobs and pleas leaked through.
The rest knelt. Watched. Waited. Prayed.
Ira kept her eyes on the concrete between her knees. Counting cracks. Counting breaths. Counting anything except the sounds.
"Keep your mouths shut," Kai ordered. "The one who cries loudest is next."
To be continued....