From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 382

Leander's voice echoed across the quiet pool hall. The glamorous servers, the other top players, Nathan and the rest—everyone froze, the room falling utterly silent.

Corin and his sister Calira stood dumbfounded, words failing them. Corin had played pool for more than a decade; he knew exactly what that single shot meant.

A single run-out that cleared the table wasn't impossible for him—but in tournament terms, a "single run" meant starting with one ball, then continuing with consecutive shots.

To pocket all solids or all stripes required a string of flawless plays. Clearing the entire table in literally one stroke—sending every ball in with one hit—was the stuff of fantasy.

Even the world's best pros wouldn't attempt to claim it.

Yet with just one stroke, Leander had sunk every solid on the table. More than that—the stripes and even the eight-ball, which couldn't be pocketed on the break, had all stayed out. The level of control behind that shot was downright terrifying.

Just how much mastery over the game did it take to pull that off? Even world-class players like Rhett Lawson or Trent Holt probably couldn't do it.

Yvette's eyes shone with delight. To her, Leander might as well be omnipotent—and frankly, he often seemed that way.

Leander stretched, bored, and waved at Nathan and the others. "That's about enough. I'm going to get some kebabs—I can't really stomach the food here. Want to come?"

Nathan and the others snapped back to themselves and nodded. Yvette didn't wait for an invitation; she hooked her arm through Leander's and practically dragged him toward the door, leaving him with an amused, helpless expression.

"Stop!"

They hadn't reached the exit when Corin's voice cut after them.

"I want another game. Snooker. I don't accept this."

Corin's eyes blazed with fury. Watching the woman he loved cling to another man, her face glowing with happiness, felt like having a knife driven straight through his chest. He couldn't bear it.

He was the club's champion, the king of this game—and he'd just been humiliated by some nobody. How could he swallow that?

Leander didn't slow; he only shook his head, calm. "Whether it's eight-ball, nine-ball, or snooker, the result's obvious. You know that yourself, don't you?"

Corin clenched his fists. Leander was right: he had no real chance. When Leander and his group were near the door, Corin's expression darkened, and he barked an order.

"No one leaves."

Four bodyguards at the doorway stepped forward and blocked Leander and his friends. Other guards from the side corridors moved in one after another until Leander was boxed in.

"Did I say you could go?" Corin's eyes flashed; his true colors had just shown.

He wasn't the owner, but his father was the club's major shareholder. Corin ran this place like royalty.

Yvette glanced back; she gave him a cold look full of contempt.

Her expression only made Corin's anger deeper, but he couldn't worry about that now.

"What?" Leander tilted his head, still unfazed. "You lose the game—and you lose your decency too? Holding guests against their will—is that the hall's policy?"

His tone was mocking, utterly untroubled.

Calira thought her brother was overstepping, but seeing Corin's dark expression, she fell silent and stepped aside.

"I'm Corin. This is how I behave. What are you going to do about it?" Corin snarled. "Kid, I admit your pool is better than mine, but so what? Compared to me, you're nothing in status, rank, or wealth. I'm the grandson of Old Mr. Riverstone, and the Riverstone family dominates the western region—you think you have the right to go after the same woman as me?"

He curled his lips into a vicious grin, showing his teeth. "If you leave Yvette alone now, I'll let you walk out of here in peace. Be sensible. If you don't, none of you are going anywhere."

The onlookers watched with morbid fascination, some shaking their heads.

Leander's skill had been breathtaking—so much so that even those who disliked him couldn't help but admire it. But as for Corin's behavior, most found it distasteful.

Corin's arrogance drained away, replaced by raw terror. His status was nothing compared to his cousins', and the men flanking him weren't even in the same league as their bodyguards.

If even Quincy and Skelly couldn't stand against Leander, what chance did he have?

Leander's eyes flicked toward him, calm and cold. Corin's heart seized; just as he opened his mouth to beg for mercy, the sharp rhythm of boots echoed from the entrance.

In the next instant, a squad of armed officers stormed in, weapons raised, moving with perfect precision. Within seconds, the entire hall was locked down.

A man strode in at their head—tall, broad-shouldered, the insignia of a major general gleaming on his uniform, the emblem of an olive branch and heart glinting beneath the lights.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. A general? Here? What could possibly have happened to bring a decorated officer to a pool hall?

"Uncle Dorian?"

Corin and Calira immediately straightened and greeted him with deep respect. The man in uniform was none other than Dorian Riverstone, the family's second-generation war hero—and the father of Quincy and Skelly.

Dorian's fierce eyes gleamed with a cutting sharpness. He ignored them completely and barked out an order, his voice crashing through the hall like thunder.

"I received intel that the criminal who defied the nation's laws is hiding in this pool hall. Everyone—hands on your heads, stand against the wall!"

The sheer authority in his tone left no room for disobedience. The timid scrambled to comply; even the proudest patrons hesitated before following orders.

Only one man didn't move.

Leander stood tall and unshaken in the center of the room, his calm presence somehow more commanding than all the rifles aimed his way.

Dorian's eyes locked onto him. He let out a cold snort and raised a finger.

"So, you're the one who attacked my sons at Westvale Peak."