Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 627 - Crystal

Thomas's head pounded. His vision blurred slightly at the edges.

The helplessness was suffocating, the kind of helplessness that stripped a man bare, left him vulnerable in the worst way possible.

"You won't choose?" Ross said, feigning disappointment.

"Such a shame. I was hoping you'd show a little backbone."

He chuckled under his breath, then turned back toward the women with a casual arrogance, as if he were simply selecting a dessert after dinner.

"Very well," he said with a smirk. "I'll choose for you."

His eyes locked onto Brenda.

"Come here, Brenda," Ross commanded, his voice low but filled with an iron authority that brooked no refusal.

Brenda flinched as if struck.

Tears welled up in her eyes as her body began to move against her will, one trembling step at a time toward the large bed at the center of the room.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. She was fighting it — Thomas could see that — but Ross's control was absolute.

Thomas watched, every fiber of his being screaming in agony, as his mother was dragged into this nightmare.

"No!" he roared, his voice cracking. "Leave her alone! Leave them both alone!"

Ross didn't even glance at him.

He just walked toward the bed, humming a soft, tuneless melody to himself, as if he were preparing for something routine, something inevitable.

And Thomas — strong, capable, determined Thomas — could only watch, bound by invisible chains, as the horror unfolded right before his eyes.

"What's happening here, Thomas?" Brenda asked, her voice quivering as her body moved against her will, step by reluctant step toward the bed.

Panic flickered in her eyes, and her hands twitched helplessly at her sides, trying in vain to resist whatever unseen force dragged her along.

Thomas stood frozen, pinned to the wall, every muscle in his body straining uselessly against the invisible chains that held him.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

How could he explain?

How could he possibly tell her that she — his mother — and Colleen had been dead for years?

That he had mourned them, grieved for them, buried them in his heart — and yet here they were, standing before him, brought back by means he couldn't even begin to understand?

He didn't know if they were truly alive, or if they were just cruel puppets twisted into the likeness of the people he loved.

And worse still, he had no way to save them.

The weight of his silence hung heavy in the air, and Brenda, seeing no answer on her son's stricken face, turned away with a deepening sense of dread.

When she finally reached the bed, the unseen force that had controlled her abruptly let her go.

Brenda stumbled, catching herself awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, her breathing ragged.

She glanced back at Thomas one last time, silently pleading for an explanation, a solution — anything — but seeing nothing but helplessness and agony in his eyes.

Slowly, she straightened and turned toward Ross.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, as if hoping he would reveal himself to be some terrible dream, something her mind could shake off.

But no — the reality of the man before her was undeniable.

She let her eyes roam, taking in the details she had been too panicked to notice before.

Ross was massive. Even the plain clothes he wore — a simple shirt stretched taut over his broad chest and thick arms — could not hide the raw, powerful musculature beneath.

Every inch of him spoke of strength and dominance, a man built like a weapon honed for violence.

And yet it wasn't just his body that terrified her.

It was his presence.

He carried himself with an ease that spoke of utter, unshakable confidence — the kind of confidence that could not be faked or taught.

It was the confidence of a man who knew he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without fear of consequence.

He stood there like a lion surveying his domain, knowing that no one could challenge him.

Brenda shuddered involuntarily.

She had met men like this before — men who wore their confidence like a second skin.

Some were merely arrogant, drunk on their own ego. Others... others were something far worse.

Predators hiding behind charming smiles and easy laughter.

And Ross, with his cold gaze and cruel smirk, belonged to the latter category.

There was no kindness behind his eyes. No restraint.

Only a terrifying, predatory hunger.

Brenda's instincts screamed at her to run, to flee from this monster — but her legs refused to move. Fear rooted her to the spot, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

Thomas watched helplessly, every second stretching into an eternity.

Guilt gnawed at him like a ravenous beast.

This is my fault, he thought bitterly. I led Ross here. I disturbed whatever twisted nightmare he was living in. And now they're paying the price.

His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms until blood welled up, but he barely noticed the pain.

He had faced death before. He had faced loss, betrayal, heartbreak.

But nothing — nothing — compared to the agony of seeing the people he loved most about to be destroyed, and knowing he could do nothing to stop it.

Ross took a slow, deliberate reach closer to Brenda, savoring her terror.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

The cruel amusement in his eyes said it all — this was a game to him, and he was enjoying every second.

Brenda's breathing quickened, her hands trembling as she backed away slightly, almost bumping down the floor behind her.

Her knees nearly gave out, but she caught herself at the last moment, standing upright with what little strength she had left.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please don't..."

Ross only smiled wider.

Thomas bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming. His vision blurred with rage and helplessness.

There has to be a way, he thought desperately. There has to be something I can do.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the horror unfolding in front of his eyes.