Evil MC's NTR Harem

"Where are we going?" Sophia asked as they walked toward the parking lot, her curiosity piqued. 

She had spent the previous night researching Ross Oakley and discovered he came from a poor family. 

No cars, no fancy gadgets—no nothing. This made her incredulous that they were even at the parking lot in the first place.

Ross turned to her with a mischievous grin. "We're going to grab some dinner, and then I have plans for you afterward. I'm going to eat you for last. Hehehe." He seemed unfazed, as if his intentions were perfectly normal.

Sophia felt a mix of irritation and determination. "Brute! I won't let you touch me, and I'll fight you even if it kills me!" Her voice was low and fierce, filled with a resolve that surprised even her.

Ross raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Hmm... let's see how you plan to fight me later," he said, a chuckle escaping his lips. 

He was genuinely excited about the challenge, as if her defiance only fueled his interest further.

As they neared the parking lot, the sight of sleek cars and luxury vehicles only deepened her confusion. 

She glanced around, trying to reconcile what she had learned about him with the scene before her. 

Just as they were about to approach Ross's car, a loud voice echoed through the parking lot, cutting through the air and halting their steps.

"Sophia!"

***

Mark had never been angrier in his life than he was at that moment. His blood boiled as he watched a tall man possessively wrap one arm around Sophia's alluring waist. 

The sight ignited a fury within him that felt uncontrollable. How dare he! The possessiveness in the man's grip made Mark's fists clench at his sides. 

Thankfully, he had summoned backup for this occasion.

"Lol. You got replaced by a fucking normie, Mark. What a twist of fate!" A burly friend, joked, a grin plastered across his face. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the spectacle unfolding before them.

"Shut up, Dennis!" Mark snapped, his voice low and furious. "We're going to make this fool regret ever touching Sophia with his dirty hands." The thought of the stranger's audacity fueled his anger even more, a fire roaring to life in his chest. 

Mark could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, urging him to act.

He turned to his friends, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Look, we're not just going to stand here and let this happen. That guy thinks he can just waltz in and take what's mine. We're going to show him how wrong he is."

He was grateful for the support he had gathered—fifteen big boys, all ready to stand by him. Each of them had a reputation for being tough, and together they formed an imposing force. 

Mark felt a surge of confidence as he glanced at his friends, all sharing his disdain for the situation.

"Let's go," Mark said, his voice steady and commanding. "We'll show that wannabe what happens when he messes with the wrong person." Even alone, Mark felt confident he could take on our op MC; he was bulkier than Ross and had no intention of letting anyone disrespect Sophia.

As they moved closer, Mark could see the smug expression on Ross's face. It only fueled his resolve further. 

Sophia deserved better than this, and he was determined to protect her. Mark steeled himself, ready to confront the man who dared to touch what he considered his.

With each step, the tension in the air thickened, and the laughter from Dennis faded into the background. 

Mark's focus sharpened, and he could hear the heartbeat of the group beside him, a collective rhythm of anticipation and anger. 

They were about to make a statement, and Mark intended to ensure that Ross would think twice before ever laying hands on Sophia again.

"Aren't you going to help me?" Our op MC asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the scene unfolding before him.

"You're a big boy, my dear Ross. Or maybe you should consider running away while you still have the chance," Sophia replied softly, a challenge woven into her words. "It seems you lack the ability to keep a woman like me in your arms." Her gaze held a mixture of defiance and intrigue, and she reveled in the tension between them.

"Is that a challenge I hear, my lovely Sophia? Don't regret your words later," our op evil MC grinned, an unsettling confidence radiating from him. 

He turned to face the group of sixteen young men, standing tall and unwavering as he met them in the middle.

"Sophia's not available right now. Not ever. Go back and play with another whore instead. Sophia is now mine," he declared, his voice steady and filled with authority that seemed to surprise even his adversaries.

"Fucker!" one of Mark's friends shouted, his face twisting with rage.

"Kill him!" Mark bellowed, the fury bubbling over in him. He could hardly contain himself, his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline surged through his veins. 

The camaraderie of the group surged, igniting their collective anger. They surrounded our op MC, a wall of muscle and fury, ready to unleash their pent-up frustrations.

But what they didn't expect was the force of nature that was Ross Oakley.

Bang!

In an explosive moment, instead of retreating, Ross charged head-on, driving his forehead into Mark's handsome face with brutal precision. 

The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the air as blood splattered across the pavement, the shock reverberating through everyone present. 

Mark staggered back, dazed, but our op MC didn't relent. He tackled Mark to the ground, straddling him as he unleashed a flurry of blows. 

Each punch landed with a ferocity that left Mark's teeth flying from his mouth, a grisly testament to the brutality of the assault.

"What are you waiting for? Help him!" Dennis shouted, finally breaking free from the shock that had paralyzed him. 

The rest of the group, momentarily stunned by Ross's aggression, quickly regrouped, sending a barrage of kicks and punches toward him. 

They underestimated their opponent, and their attacks were met with swift and decisive retaliation.

The night air filled with the sounds of their shouts of pain as Ross defended himself with just one hand. 

His movements were fluid and precise, a dance of destruction as he effortlessly deflected their blows. 

Each strike he blocked seemed to amplify the chaos, breaking bones and leaving his assailants reeling in disbelief.

"Ahhhhhh!" The night was serenaded by the screams of the broken, their cries echoing through the parking lot like a haunting melody. 

The once lively atmosphere transformed into a battleground, where the excitement of the evening faded into fear and confusion.

Mark struggled to rise, the pain coursing through him making it impossible to focus. Every attempt to get back on his feet was met with disorientation, and he could only watch in horror as his friends fell victim to the whirlwind that was Ross Oakley.

Ross fought like a man possessed, his eyes alight with a fierce determination. He moved among the group with grace and power, taking down one opponent after another with a mix of punches, kicks, and grapples. 

The scene was almost surreal, as if he were a storm sweeping through the parking lot, leaving chaos and destruction in his wake.

In the span of just one minute, the chaos in the parking lot had transformed into a gruesome spectacle. 

All sixteen young men lay on the brink of death, their bodies broken and sprawled across the ground, groaning in pain. 

Blood stained the concrete like a morbid mosaic, marking the site of Ross Oakley's dominance. Of all the men, Mark suffered the worst. 

His once-handsome face was a grotesque mess of blood and shattered bone, his teeth forced violently down his throat, leaving him choking and gagging on his own blood. 

He looked more like a corpse than the charismatic figure he had been moments before, barely holding on to consciousness as his friends lay beside him, helpless.

"Mark!" Sophia's heart shattered as she dropped to her knees beside him, her voice quivering. The sight of him—bloodied, broken—was more than she could bear. 

"You monster!" Her voice rose, cracking with fear and desperation, as she reached out to touch Mark's disfigured face, hoping she could somehow help him.

But before her fingers could graze his bloodied skin, a strong arm blocked her path. It was Ross.

"Let's go," our op evil MC ordered, his voice cold, almost disinterested, as if the destruction he'd caused was nothing more than a casual inconvenience. 

His grip on Sophia's arm was firm but unhurried, as if he already knew she wouldn't resist. His eyes glinted with a dark, twisted satisfaction as he surveyed the bodies lying around him. 

"They'll live. I promise." His tone was mocking, the words holding no genuine concern for the men he had brutalized. His expression hardened, his eyes locking onto Sophia's trembling form. 

"But if you keep being hysterical like this," he growled, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper, "I'll cut your ex boyfriend's head off and eat it while you're watching."

The words were savage, inhuman, and the sinister gleam in his eyes left no room for doubt. He wasn't bluffing. Sophia recoiled, her breath catching in her throat. 

A chill washed over her as she looked into Ross's face—his expression was wild, unhinged, like a beast barely held in check. 

The air around them seemed to thicken with the weight of his threat, and Sophia's body trembled involuntarily. 

She wanted to scream, to cry out, but the primal fear gripping her made it impossible to move.

The feeling of absolute power coursing through Ross was intoxicating. It was a high unlike anything he had ever felt, and it surged through him like a drug, demanding more. 

His heart raced, the thrill of dominance, the raw satisfaction of bending others to his will, sending waves of euphoria through him. 

This wasn't just power—it was control, and it was addictive beyond measure. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. He could do anything. Be anything. And the world would bend to his whims.

Sophia forced herself to calm down, swallowing the rising panic that threatened to overtake her. 

Her mind raced, the image of Mark's beaten face burned into her memory, but she knew better than to defy Ross now. 

She didn't doubt for a second that he would follow through with his grisly threat. She had seen what he was capable of—Mark and his friends were proof of that. 

Slowly, she nodded, her throat dry, her voice failing her as she tried to respond. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she fought to regain control of herself. She had no choice.

"Good girl," Ross said, his grin widening with approval. There was something deeply unsettling in his smile, as if her submission only fueled the twisted pleasure he was already feeling. 

He tightened his grip on her arm, guiding her away from the carnage and toward his car, as if the violence he'd just committed was nothing more than an afterthought.

Sophia stumbled slightly as Ross led her forward, her mind still reeling from the brutal scene she had just witnessed. 

She could barely think straight—everything felt surreal, like she had been thrown into a nightmare. 

As they neared the car, she barely noticed the sleek, polished machine gleaming under the dim lights of the parking lot. 

It was a work of art, every curve and detail meticulously designed, and worth a staggering fifty million dollars. 

Yet, in her current state, the car's beauty was the furthest thing from her mind.

Her thoughts were consumed with Mark, with the horror she had just witnessed. She had loved him once. 

He had been everything to her. And now, to see him reduced to such a pitiful state—bloodied, disfigured, and clinging to life—was more than she could bear. 

Her chest tightened as she thought about his handsome smile, now obliterated by Ross's fists. 

How had things spiraled so out of control? She felt nauseous, her stomach twisting into knots, but Ross's iron grip kept her anchored to the present.

As they approached the car, Ross yanked open the door and motioned for her to get in. 

His movements were casual, as if the violence and chaos of the night hadn't fazed him at all. He was still grinning, as if the whole situation was a joke only he was in on. 

His confidence was unsettling, and Sophia could feel the weight of it pressing down on her.

"Get in the car," Ross ordered, his tone sharp. "Or do you want me to go back and finish the job?"

Sophia's body moved before her mind could catch up, and she slid into the passenger seat, her hands trembling. 

She couldn't afford to provoke him any further. She knew that now. 

Ross slammed the door shut behind her and rounded the car to the driver's side, his casual swagger unnerving her further.

As they sped off, the roar of the engine drowned out the sounds of the suffering left behind. Sophia's mind raced, her thoughts consumed by Mark and what had just happened. 

She glanced at Ross, who was focused on the road, his face still wearing that eerie, self-satisfied grin.

Who was this man, really? And what had she gotten herself into?