Chapter 348: Attacking Paul

I command the ants to form a line—like an army. Without hesitation, they move in perfect unison, as if my thoughts are their own. No training. No guidance. Just instant obedience.

Angela and Lisa stand motionless, their breaths shallow as they watch the ants obey my silent command.

The line they form isn’t just orderly—it’s mechanical, like soldiers drilled for years, their tiny legs moving in perfect, unsettling sync. Angela’s fingers twitch at her sides, her voice barely a whisper.

"Ants don’t do this. They don’t—they can’t—move like this." Her words hang in the air, thick with disbelief. Lisa doesn’t even speak.

She just stares, her eyes darting between the ants and me, her mind clearly racing to make sense of what she’s seeing. I can almost hear the gears turning in her head, the questions piling up behind her lips.

I let the silence stretch, savoring it. The satisfaction coils in my chest like smoke, dark and intoxicating. They don’t understand yet. They don’t realize what this means—what I can do now.

But we can’t stand here forever. Not when there’s so much more to come.

I turn my focus back to the ants, my will pressing into their tiny minds like a brand. Climb, I command. Cover us.

The order hums through me, a pulse of intent, and the ants respond instantly. They surge forward, a living tide of black bodies, swarming up our legs with eerie precision.

I feel the faintest tickle as they crawl over my shoes, their numbers so vast they blur into a single, shifting mass. Lisa gasps, her body stiffening as the ants claim her boots, their tiny legs gripping the leather like a second skin.

Angela lets out a sharp breath, her fingers clutching at her sleeves as if she’s fighting the urge to brush them off. "Dexter, what the hell—?" she starts, but the words die in her throat as she looks down. Her shoes are gone, buried beneath a writhing, black carpet of ants.

15,000 of them. A silent, seething army, now hidden in plain sight.

I glance at our feet—three pairs of shoes, completely blackened, as if we’d dipped them in ink. No one would look twice. No one would suspect a thing. The ants don’t stir, don’t scatter. They wait. Obedient. Ready.

Lisa finally finds her voice, though it’s barely more than a rasp. "No one’s going to notice this?" She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, but the tremor in her words betrays her.

I smirk, my gaze flicking up to meet hers. "Not until it’s too late."

Angela swallows hard, her eyes locked on the ants clinging to her shoes. She knows. She knows this isn’t just a trick. It’s a weapon. And we’re carrying it with us.

I take a step forward, testing the weight of my new army. The ants adjust flawlessly, their grip unyielding. The ground beneath us feels different now—charged, like the air before a storm.

Let them underestimate us, I think, my lips curling into a cold smile. Let them believe we’re just three people—Dexter, Angela, and Lisa—walking into the unknown, unarmed and unremarkable.

But we’re anything but.

I lead the way, my steps deliberate as we move toward Mira’s location. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something wild, untamed. The ants beneath our feet remain still, their presence a secret only we share.

Then, a sound cuts through the silence.

A roar.

Deep, guttural, and primal, it shakes the ground beneath us, vibrating through my bones. My head snaps toward the noise, my body instinctively tensing. Angela and Lisa freeze beside me, their breaths hitching in unison.

And then I see it.

Emerging from the shadows was a beast unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s a lion—no, more than a lion. Its massive frame dwarfs any creature I’ve encountered, its muscles rippling beneath a tawny coat striped with scars.

But what sends a jolt of unease through me are the horns—twisted, black, and jagged, jutting from its skull like the crown of some infernal king. Its eyes lock onto us, golden and predatory, its lips peeling back in a snarl.

Fuck. What kind of animal is that?

It doesn’t just look at us. It stares. Like we’re nothing more than prey, stumbling into its domain. A low growl rumbles in its chest, the sound sending a chill down my spine.

I don’t hesitate.

Eternal Vitality

surges through me, my veins burning as my strength and defenses skyrocket. The world sharpens, every detail crystallizing as my body prepares for battle. The lion lunges, its massive paws kicking up dust, but I’m faster.

I meet it head-on, my fist crashing into its skull with a force that sends a shockwave through the air. The beast staggers, its eyes glazing over for a split second—just long enough.

I don’t waste the opening.

With a swift motion, I slash my palm, ignoring the sting as crimson blood wells up. A single drop falls onto the lion’s fur, sizzling slightly as it sinks in. The beast shudders, its massive body tensing—not in anger, but in submission.

In an instant, it’s mine.

A notification flashes in my vision:

Mountain Lion – Tamed

.

I don’t let myself savor the moment. There’s no time. I command the lion silently, my will pressing into its mind like a blade. Follow us. Stay hidden.

The beast obeys without hesitation, its massive form melting into the shadows as it circles around, its movements eerily silent for something so large. It keeps pace with us, a ghost of fur and muscle, as we continue toward Mira’s location.

A few minutes later, they come into view.

Mira, Hailey, and Nicole stand clustered together, their postures deceptively relaxed, though their eyes betray a flicker of unease. They keep scanning the area, searching for anything—anything—that might give them an edge.

Bill, Paul, and Jack form a protective barrier in front of them, their stances wide, their muscles coiled like springs.

Paul’s hand hovers near the holster at his hip, his fingers twitching. He’s the one with the gun. The realization hits me like a jolt. If he gets a clear shot, my lion—my newly tamed weapon—will be nothing more than a corpse in the dirt.

I can’t let that happen.

My gaze flicks to the shadows where the lion crouches, its golden eyes locked onto me, waiting. I don’t need words. A silent command is enough.

Attack Paul.

A roar shattered the silence.

It was a sound that didn’t just fill the air—it

dominated

it. A deep, guttural thunder that seemed to shake the earth beneath our feet.

The lion’s roar was unlike anything I’d ever heard, primal and terrifying, echoing through the trees like a warning from hell itself. Birds exploded from the branches above, their frantic wings beating against the sky as the roar sent a wave of pure, instinctive terror through every living thing in the vicinity.