Unrivalled God of War

Damian Blackwood sat in his office, high above the city. His fingers held an unlit cigarette. He stared at the wall in front of him.

The wall was covered with clues—blurry photos, notes of locations, and witness accounts. All of them were about one woman.

Five years. He had been searching for five years. Tiredness seeped into every part of his body, and his eyes were empty.

He was the CEO of Blackwood Group, a man who could control everything with a single order. But he couldn't find her.

"Eleanor," he whispered, the name tasting bitter on his lips. He reached out, touching a blurry photo of a woman's profile.

That was the clearest photo he had. It was taken five years ago, before everything fell apart.

He'd almost given up. The hope that had kept him going for years was fading, like a candle in the wind.

Just as he was about to turn away from the wall, his private phone rang. The ringtone was sharp, cutting through the silence of the office.

Damian picked it up quickly. His voice was hoarse, from lack of sleep and endless waiting. "Speak."

"Mr. Blackwood, it's me," the voice on the other end belonged to his private detective, Miller. There was a hint of certainty in Miller's tone.

Damian sat up straight. His empty eyes suddenly lit up. "Did you find her?"

"Yes, sir. 100% sure," Miller said. "I've confirmed her location, her current name, and her address."

Damian's hands tightened around the phone. His breath quickened. He had waited so long for this moment.

"Tell me," he said, his voice low and tense. He didn't dare to breathe, afraid this was just a dream.

Miller gave him an address—a quiet suburban street, far from the bustling city center. "She's living there under the name Eleanor Gray."

Damian repeated the address silently, memorizing every word. It felt like a lifeline, pulling him out of the numbness he'd been trapped in.

After a pause, Miller added, "Sir, I should tell you—she's living a quiet life now. No trouble, no connections to the past."

Damian's jaw tightened. He knew what Miller was trying to say.

"Maybe… maybe it's better to leave her alone," Miller said, his voice careful. "She seems happy."

Damian didn't hesitate. "That's not your call, Miller."

"I understand, sir," Miller said, sighing. "I just thought you should know. I'll send you all the details via email."

"Do it," Damian said. He hung up the phone without another word.

The office fell silent again. But this time, it wasn't the cold, empty silence of before. It was filled with tension, with anticipation.

Damian stood up and walked to the wall. He stared at the blurry profile photo again. Memories flooded his mind, sharp and painful.

Rain. So much rain. The smell of alcohol, strong and overwhelming. Her quiet sobs, and the tears rolling down her cheeks.

He had hurt her. Badly. That was the sin he carried, the reason he'd spent five years searching.

Guilt washed over him, heavy and suffocating. But beneath the guilt, there was something else—possession, fierce and unyielding

She was his. He had lost her once, but he wouldn't lose her again. Not this time.

His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. He didn't care about her quiet life. He didn't care if he was breaking her peace.

He had to see her. Now.

Damian turned around, grabbing his car keys from the desk. He didn't look back at the wall of clues, at the five years of his life pinned to it.

The elevator ride down was quick. He walked through the empty lobby, his steps firm and determined.

His driver was waiting by the door. "Mr. Blackwood, where to?"

"I'll drive myself," Damian said, pushing past him. He didn't want anyone with him, not now.

He got into his black sports car, starting the engine. The car roared to life, cutting through the night.

He typed the address into the navigation. The screen lit up, showing the route to the suburbs. The city lights blurred as he drove faster.

He thought about Eleanor. What was she doing now? Was she really happy? Did she ever think about him?

The questions swirled in his mind, but he pushed them aside. He would have answers soon enough.

The city faded behind him. The streets became quieter, the houses smaller and more spaced out. The navigation beeped, telling him he was almost there.

Damian slowed down, driving past the quiet suburban street. He found the address easily—it was a small, white house with a small lawn in front.

A warm light was on in the living room, glowing through the window. It looked cozy, peaceful.

He parked his car on the corner, a little way from the house. He turned off the engine, and the night fell silent around him.

He stared at the house, his eyes fixed on the warm light. His heart was racing, a mix of nervousness, guilt, and excitement.

Five years of searching. Five years of guilt. It all led to this moment.

He didn't move. He just sat there, watching the house, knowing that behind that door was the woman he'd been chasing for half a decade.

The peace she had built was about to be broken. And he didn't care. He had to have her back.

Damian leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving the house. The night was quiet, but his mind was anything but.

He knew what he had to do. He would go to her, and he would make things right. Or he would make her his, no matter what.

The warm light in the window seemed to mock him, a reminder of the life she had without him. But he would change that.

Soon, she would be his again. And this time, he would never let her go.