The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 971

The masked man didn't slow his pace. With a swift motion, he reached into his trench coat and pulled out a sleek, black tablet. His black leather-gloved finger swiped across the screen, pulling up a video that he shoved directly in front of Fitch Sherwood's face.

The footage was shaky, clearly filmed from a great distance. The camera lens was zoomed in to its absolute limit, leaving the image slightly grainy, but the crucial details were impossible to miss.

It showed the crumbling remains of an abandoned factory sitting in the middle of nowhere. Without warning, massive, blinding orange fireballs erupted from the broken windows and gaping holes in the structure.

A split second later, a deafening boom—one that seemed to radiate shockwaves even through the screen—tore the factory's roof off as easily as a gust of wind tossing a piece of paper.

Thick black smoke and roaring flames instantly twisted into a terrifying mushroom cloud, greedily swallowing the entire building.

Fitch's eyes blew wide. His pupils constricted, then dilated as he stared, practically glued to the screen.

The masked man's recording was far too immersive. Watching the inferno, Fitch didn't feel a shred of joy. Instead, a deep, icy terror washed over him, a profound realization of the masked man's boundless power and absolute ruthlessness.

Even someone as formidable as Callahan Langley couldn't have survived a blast like that. No one could.

Fitch subconsciously tightened his grip on the tablet, looking a bit dazed. "Callahan... he's really gone?"

He took a deep breath, forcing a stiff smile onto his face. "Your plan was flawless, sir. With Callahan dead, the Langley family will never recover."

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