Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

"We can still track him down. If we coordinate with the local police, they can arrest him and send him back."

Brooks shook his head grimly. "Not happening."

Jed's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The second Logan and his family stepped off that plane in another country, they were grabbed by a local gang."

A sense of unease settled over Jed. "Which gang?" 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Brooks hesitated for only a moment before answering. "They call themselves something… I don't know the name or maybe they don't have any… but they would have been working under some real gang with enough influence to pull that off"

Still, Jed refused to give up. "We can still report it— police might—"

Brooks cut him off. "Forget it. The gang has too much control over the city. No cop over there is going to risk pissing them off over some fugitive from our side of the world."

Jed clenched his jaw, his nails digging into his palms. The helplessness made him sick.

For the first time since joining the force, he swore under his breath. "Damn it."

His head dropped forward slightly, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "A murderer runs from one country to another, only to get kidnapped by a gang the moment he lands. How the hell did things turn into such a damn mess?"

Brooks stepped closer and clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's not on you, man." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Everyone here knows how hard you worked on this. Logan getting away wasn't your fault—it was bad timing. You've only been here a month, and you already cracked a serial killer case. You're one of the best we've got."

Jed stayed silent for a moment before exhaling sharply. He wanted to believe that. He really did.

But no matter how hard he tried, the bitter taste of failure still lingered.

This serial killer case had been a nightmare for the police station for over two months. No matter how many resources were poured into the investigation, the veteran detectives in the bureau kept hitting dead ends.

The killer left no clues behind, no patterns that made sense—just bodies. Each crime scene was meticulous, every lead turned into a dead end.

Then Jed joined the case.

Within days, he spotted something everyone else had overlooked. A small, seemingly insignificant clue buried in the case files—a minor detail that connected the victims in a way no one had noticed before.

Following that lead, he pieced together the killer's habits, movements, and most importantly, their next potential target.

With Jed's insight, the station set up an ambush. Everything was planned down to the second, a flawless trap waiting to snap shut.

And when the killer finally showed up, just as Jed had predicted, they took him down in one swift move.

The entire station had been buzzing about it ever since.

"Jed, we all know how good you are," the deputy chief said as he pushed open the door, a thermos of tea in hand. His tone was calm, but there was clear respect in his voice. "But there's nothing more we can do about the Logan case. That's out of our hands now. Let the higher-ups sort out that mess."

He set the thermos down on the desk and leaned against the doorframe, giving Jed a pointed look. "For now, I need you to focus on something else—keep an eye on the other side of the city. The precinct there says a gang calling themselves the Tiger Crew and they have been stirring up trouble lately. They're getting bold and seriously messing with public safety."

Jed frowned. "The Tiger Crew?" He hadn't heard much about them before. "We've got gangs like that in the city?"

The deputy chief let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his tea. "Calling them a gang might be giving them too much credit. It's more like a bunch of delinquent kids who don't know what to do with themselves. But their leader? That one's a different story. Keep your guard up."

Jed tapped his fingers against the desk. If it were just some reckless teenagers acting out, the precinct wouldn't have needed to call for help from the main bureau. That meant there was something bigger at play.

He nodded, then hesitated before asking, "What about Alex Reid? Do you guys know anything about him?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the room shifted. The Captain Brooks hand froze mid-sip.

Brooks, who had been casually leaning against the desk, suddenly looked much more serious.

"You've been looking into him?" the deputy chief asked carefully.

Jed shook his head and picked up his cup of cold water, taking a slow sip. "Not really. Just curious about this Alex Reid of our city."

The tension eased slightly, and the deputy chief unscrewed his thermos, taking a deep gulp of his tea before setting it down.

"Alex is the CEO of the Reid Industries," he said, his voice measured. "his mother is dead and stepmother and step sister are in prison. He runs his businesses by the book, doesn't stir up trouble, and even his nightclubs and bars are completely legit. No underground dealings, no shady transactions. Just clean business."

Brooks chimed in with a grin. "Not only that, but every holiday, he donates money to build schools and nursing homes and orphanages. You know those new patrol cars we got last year? Alex paid for them out of his own pocket. His company covers a lot of industries, and he's created a ton of jobs in the city."

Jed listened carefully, absorbing every word. A man with power, wealth, and influence—yet no criminal record. No missteps. A businessman with a spotless reputation, known for his generosity.

A model citizen.

….

Eric Vaughn found himself back in the detention center, the cold metal bars closing in around him like a trap he couldn't escape.

This time, it was far worse than before. Last time, they couldn't pin Sera's grandfather's death on him—evidence was thin, and he'd slipped through the cracks. But now?

The situation had exploded into something undeniable. Too many eyes had watched it unfold, and five fools had even live-streamed the chaos, broadcasting every second to the world.

The victim wasn't just anyone—he was the former head of the Wade Family, a towering name in the city, a pillar of power and legacy.

If it had been some nobody, a wad of cash and a few phone calls would have buried the mess—big trouble shrinking to a whisper, then vanishing entirely.

But the Wade Family? That was a storm no one could hush. Trouble didn't just knock—it kicked the door down.

As the police van rumbled from Hospital to the city station, Eric sat in the back, wrists chafed by handcuffs, his mind spinning.

Healing was his gift, his calling. Up on the mountain, his master had glowed with pride, calling him the finest talent calling him the prodigy world had seen in a century.

"You're destined for greatness," the old man had said, voice steady with certainty. "Your luck's the kind most only dream of—top of the world."

Eric had believed it, carried those words like a shield. So why, since he'd left the mountain, did every step feel like a stumble into quicksand?

Twice he'd tried to save someone—twice they'd died anyway. And both times, he'd ended up here, locked behind bars, the hero turned villain.

Doubt crept in, gnawing at him. Was he really as good as he thought? The question stung, sharp and relentless.

For now, he was stuck. The Wade Family was still building their case, so prison wasn't on the table—yet.

He paced the detention center, restless, until he ducked into the bathroom for a moment of quiet.

The door banged open just as he stepped inside, and out stumbled a wiry guy with glasses, his eyes gleaming like he'd just struck gold.

Eric froze, instantly uneasy. The guy's grin was too wide, too eager, and it sent a shiver down Eric's spine.

"What are you staring at?" Eric snapped, his voice tight with irritation. "Stop gawking—get your eyes off me!" He threw a hand up to shield his face, the other waving the guy away like swatting a fly. This creep made his skin crawl.

"Er—Eric Vaughn, you're back," the glasses guy said, dragging the words out, his cheeks flushing pink as if he'd just spotted a celebrity.

"I'm not him!" Eric shot back, his patience fraying. "Wrong guy. I'm in a bad mood, so beat it!" He flapped his hand harder, desperate to shake this weirdo loose. The guy terrified him—not with fists, but with that unnerving, clingy vibe.

"Quit pretending," Glasses said, stepping closer, his grin widening. "You can't hide it. The way you carry yourself, that wild look in your eyes, that sharp Adam's apple—it's all pure Eric Vaughn. No one else has that spark." His voice dripped with admiration, his gaze locked on like a spotlight.

Laughter erupted from the other detainees, a chorus of rough chuckles bouncing off the concrete walls.

Eric's face burned, shifting from pale shock to red-hot embarrassment. He stared at Glasses, pleading now. "Dude, I'm just a regular guy. I like women—only women. Please, go bother someone else!"