Aiden Knight's POV
The police sergeant's weapon remains trained on my chest with unwavering precision. His finger hovers over the trigger, and I can see the professional calculation in his eyes. He's assessing threat levels, looking for any excuse to fire.
"I said get down!" His voice cuts through the ballroom like a whip crack. "Hands behind your head, on your knees, now!"
I don't move. Something about his aggressive posture, the way he's singled me out despite Oscar still kneeling on the floor, tells me this isn't just about reports of an assault. Someone made a call. Someone with influence.
"Did you hear me?" The sergeant takes a step closer, his weapon steady. "This is your last warning before I drop you."
"Aiden," Chloe whispers beside me, her voice tight with fear. "Please, just do what he says."
I meet the sergeant's stare directly. There's no fear in my eyes, no submission. Just cold evaluation. The man's confidence wavers slightly under my gaze, though he doesn't lower his weapon.
"You're making a mistake, officer," I say calmly.
"The only mistake here is you thinking you can assault people and walk away." His jaw tightens. "Final warning. Kneel."
I remain standing. Around us, the other officers shift nervously. They can sense something their sergeant cannot. An undercurrent of danger that has nothing to do with weapons or badges.
The main doors swing open again, and a woman strides in with military precision. She's tall, lean, wearing a crisp uniform I don't immediately recognize. Her dark hair is pulled back severely, and her green eyes scan the room with predatory intelligence.
"Stand down, Sergeant Miller," she commands, her voice carrying absolute authority.
The sergeant's weapon wavers. "Ma'am, this is a police matter. We have jurisdiction..."
"Not anymore." She produces a badge that makes Sergeant Miller's face go white. "Isabella Reed, Special Operations Division. This scene is now under federal oversight."
Miller lowers his weapon immediately, stepping back with visible relief. Whatever that badge represents, it outranks local police by a wide margin.
Isabella Reed turns her attention to me, and I feel the weight of her assessment. She's not looking at me like a common criminal. Her eyes hold the calculating gaze of someone who recognizes a fellow predator.
"You're the one who did all this?" She gestures toward the groaning bodyguards, the unconscious Elder Kane, the still-kneeling Oscar Graves.
"Self-defense," I reply simply.
Her lips curve in what might charitably be called a smile. "Self-defense. Against seven armed men and a martial arts master."
"They started it."
"I'm sure they did." She takes a step closer, studying my face. "What's your name?"
"# Chapter 27 - Aiden Knight."
Recognition flickers in her eyes, quickly suppressed. She knows that name, though from where, I can't tell.
"Mr. Knight, I'm going to need you to comply with my instructions. Can you do that?"
There's something different about her approach. Not the crude aggression of the sergeant, but the careful respect of someone who understands they might be dealing with something dangerous.
"That depends on the instructions," I tell her.
Her smile becomes more genuine. "Fair enough. For now, I need you to get on your knees with your hands visible. This is procedure, not punishment."
Before I can respond, Chloe steps between us. Her face is pale but determined, and I can see her hands trembling with adrenaline.
"Officer Reed," Chloe says quickly, "there are security cameras throughout this ballroom. The footage will show that Mr. Knight was defending himself and others from an unprovoked attack."
Isabella's attention shifts to Chloe, taking in her expensive dress, her confident bearing despite the fear in her eyes. "And you are?"
"Chloe Pierce, Vice President of Heavenly Justice Group." Chloe straightens, drawing on her business training. "I witnessed everything. These men attacked Mr. Knight first. He had every right to defend himself."
"Ms. Pierce, I appreciate your input, but..."
"The security footage will prove everything," Chloe continues, her voice gaining strength. "Mr. Knight is the victim here, not the perpetrator."
Isabella looks between us, clearly recalculating. Then she nods slowly. "The footage will certainly be reviewed. But right now, I need compliance from everyone involved."
Chloe turns to me, her eyes pleading. "Aiden, please. Just do what she asks. The cameras saw everything. The truth will come out."
I study Isabella Reed's face, reading the subtle tells that mark her as more than just another federal agent. There's steel in her spine, intelligence in her eyes, and something else. Caution. She's being careful with me, which suggests she knows more than she's letting on.
"All right," I say finally.
I lower myself to one knee, then the other, keeping my movements slow and controlled. My hands remain visible at my sides, non-threatening but not behind my head as originally demanded.
Isabella notices the compromise and accepts it with a slight nod. She understands the difference between submission and cooperation.
"Thank you," she says, and there's genuine respect in her tone.
She turns to survey the scene more thoroughly. Her eyes linger on Elder Kane, still breathing shallowly against the pillar, then move to the scattered bodyguards. Finally, her gaze settles on Oscar Graves.
The patriarch is still on his knees, his expensive suit rumpled and torn. His face is flushed with humiliation and rage, but he hasn't dared to stand. Even with police presence, he remains frozen in place.
Isabella's eyebrows rise slightly. "Mr. Graves, you can stand now."
Oscar tries to push himself upright, his movements awkward and unsteady. The psychological impact of his forced submission is written across his features. This is a man unaccustomed to powerlessness, and the experience has shaken him to his core.
"Officer Reed," Oscar begins, his voice hoarse. "This man is extremely dangerous. He attacked my security detail unprovoked, injured my family advisor, and threatened my son."
Isabella's expression doesn't change. "I see. And why were your security personnel drawn weapons in a public venue, Mr. Graves?"
Oscar's mouth opens, then closes. The question exposes the flaw in his narrative. Security details don't draw weapons unless they're planning to use them.
"They were protecting me," he says finally.
"From what threat?"
"From him!" Oscar points at me with a shaking finger. "He's some kind of martial arts fanatic. Look what he did to Elder Kane!"
Isabella glances at the still-unconscious martial artist, then back at me. Her expression remains professionally neutral, but I catch a flicker of something else. Not surprise at what I've done, but confirmation of what she already suspected.
She knows who I am. The question is how much she knows.
"Officer Reed," Chloe interjects, "I have the contact information for the ballroom's security company. They can provide the complete footage immediately."
"That won't be necessary at this time," Isabella replies. "My team will handle evidence collection."
She signals to her subordinates, who begin moving through the room with practiced efficiency. They're not regular police. Their movements are too coordinated, too military. Special operations indeed.
One of her men approaches and whispers something in her ear. Isabella's expression tightens almost imperceptibly.
"Mr. Knight," she says, turning back to me. "I'm going to need you to come with us for questioning."
"Am I under arrest?"
"You're a person of interest in an ongoing investigation."
The careful phrasing tells me everything I need to know. They don't have enough to arrest me, but they want me contained while they figure out their next move.
"How long?" I ask.
"That depends on how cooperative you are during questioning."
Behind her, I notice one of her subordinates taking particular interest in something on his tablet. He shows the screen to Isabella, whose face goes carefully blank.
Whatever they're looking at, it's changed the dynamic again.
"Sir," the subordinate says quietly, "we've confirmed the identity. This is definitely him."
Isabella's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. She's just received information that complicates her situation considerably.
"Ms. Pierce," Isabella says without taking her eyes off me, "you mentioned security footage. I'll need you to remain available for questioning as well."
"Of course," Chloe agrees quickly.
Isabella looks around the ballroom one more time, her gaze lingering on the destruction I've caused. Seven trained men disabled. A martial arts master unconscious. A powerful family patriarch psychologically broken.
All accomplished by one man who isn't even breathing hard.
"Sergeant Miller," she calls out. "Secure this scene. No one enters or leaves without my authorization."
"Yes, ma'am."
Isabella turns back to me, and for a moment, her professional mask slips. Beneath it, I catch a glimpse of someone who's just realized she's walked into a situation far more complex than she anticipated.
"Mr. Knight," she says carefully, "I'm going to ask you to stand slowly and come with us. No sudden movements."
I rise to my feet with fluid grace, ignoring the dozen weapons that track my movement. Isabella watches every gesture, looking for signs of aggression or resistance.
She finds neither. I'm completely calm, totally in control.
That, more than anything else, seems to unnerve her.
"This way," she indicates toward the main doors.
As we move through the ballroom, I catch Oscar's eye one final time. The fear there has crystallized into something deeper. He understands now that his family's power, his connections, his wealth, mean nothing in the face of what I represent.
The old order is changing. And men like Oscar Graves are on the wrong side of that change.
Isabella's radio crackles as we reach the doors. "Command, this is Reed. We have the subject in custody. Requesting immediate transport and full background workup."
"Copy that, Reed. Transport is en route. Be advised, this one has some very interesting files."
Isabella glances at me sharply. "Interesting how?"
"Let's just say his background check is going to require some very high clearances."
I catch Isabella's eye and smile slightly. She's beginning to understand that she hasn't just arrested some random troublemaker. She's taken into custody someone whose very existence is classified at levels she may not have access to.
"Bring everyone in!" Isabella commands sharply.