My Taboo Harem!

Chapter 400: What’s Mine

The heavy door slab lay shattered on the marble like a broken tombstone, dust still drifting in the violet light.

Inside the private bedroom, the air was thick, choking—spilled whiskey, sour sweat, the metallic tang of blood already mixing with the chemical reek of lust-drugs and fear-piss.

Aiden, Anderson, and Zack stood frozen in mid-depravity:belts hanging loose, zippers torn halfway down, trousers sagging around hairy thighs, cocks half-erect and obscene from the cocktail they’d forced into Emily’s throat minutes earlier.

Their faces were slack with animal shock—eyes bulging, mouths hanging open, the smug legacy sneers erased in a single heartbeat by the sight of Phei framed in the doorway like judgment given flesh.

Emily was beyond ruined.

She crawled across the massive silk bed on trembling hands and knees, body arched in helpless, drug-fueled spasms. Her torn dress clung uselessly around her body like a bloodied rag. Only the delicate white lace bra remained—cups shoved upward and twisted, full breasts spilling free, nipples painfully erect and flushed dark from the unnatural heat raging through her.

Sweat poured off her in sheets, glistening on every curve, every trembling muscle. Her hair—once sleek and perfect—was a sodden, matted nightmare: strands glued to her tear-and-blood-streaked face, plastered across swollen, split lips that still bled freely, clinging to her chin in sticky ropes.

She moaned low and broken, hips grinding against nothing, thighs slick and shaking, glassy eyes rolled half-back in chemical oblivion, lost in a hell of forced ecstasy she never asked for.

Phei’s rage did not flare.

It ignited.

A black, bottomless cold surged through every vein, colder than Void-Ice, sharper than star-death. His amethyst eyes burned white for one frozen instant—then went utterly black, rimmed only in glacial frost.

In that same heartbeat he flicked his gaze to Eira.

The crystalline doll streaked forward like dark lightning. Her wings hummed once—soft, crystalline, a single note of mercy—and the sound slipped into Emily’s mind like frost sealing a wound. Emily’s body jerked once more, a final guttural moan tearing from her ruined throat, then her arms gave out.

She collapsed face-down onto the silk, unconscious, spared the carnage about to unfold while Eira healed her.

Phei did not speak.

He simply moved

.

Anderson first.

The bastard’s hand that had previously curled around Emily’s ankle—possessive, entitled.

Phei crossed the room in a blur too fast for human eyes.

CRACK—

His fist drove into Anderson’s jaw with the force of a collapsing building. The impact lifted the larger boy completely off the floor; head snapped 90 degrees, spit and blood exploding in a wide arc that painted the headboard crimson.

Anderson spun in mid-air like a ragdoll before crashing sideways into the nightstand. Wood splintered.

Glass shattered. The lamp exploded in shards.

Anderson tried to rise—groaning, dazed.

Phei was already there.

BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.

Five piston-rapid punches to the face, each one heavier, crueler. Nose cartilage pulverized into wet mush. Left eye socket collapsed with a sickening pop, eyeball bulging grotesquely before bursting under the next blow. Upper lip split to the bone, teeth shattering inward like broken glass.

Lower jaw dislocated with a wet crunch, hanging slack and useless.

The fifth punch drove straight through the ruined mouth—knuckles grinding against shattered molars, tearing gums to ribbons.

The whoile thing happened in seven good seconds.

Phei seized Anderson by the hair with one hand, yanked his head back until the neck bowed at an impossible angle, then slammed his knee upward—once into the throat, crushing the windpipe into a wet gurgle; twice into the already pulped face, flattening what remained of the nose completely; three times, four times, five—each impact sending fresh sprays of blood and mucus across the ceiling.

Anderson’s screams were wet choking sounds now, bubbling through ruined lips.

“How DARE YOU Charity case!” Zack lunged—half-naked, cock still dangling, pants hobbling him like shackles.

Phei’s hand spun without looking.

Elbow whipped out like a guillotine blade.

He on the other hand let go of limp Anderson.

THWACK.

The point of the elbow smashed into Zack’s temple with skull-fracturing force. Zack’s head rocked sideways; eyes crossed instantly, pupils unequal. He staggered, but Phei caught him by the throat—one-handed, fingers sinking into flesh like steel clamps—and lifted him clean off the ground.

Then slammed him face-first into the marble wall.

CRUNCH—CRACK—CRUNCH.

Nose flattened to a bloody smear. Forehead split open to the bone. Cheekbone shattered inward. Phei yanked him back by the hair and drove his own forehead into Zack’s face—once, twice, three times—each headbutt landing with the sound of wet wood splitting.

Zack’s legs thrashed wildly; piss streamed down his thighs in hot rivers, soaking the half-down trousers.

His whole being shriveled to nothing under the Dominance Aura’s lingering pressure.

Phei dropped him like trash. Zack crumpled, sobbing, clutching his ruined face.

Aiden was scrambling backward on his ass, belt tangled, screaming high and panicked—”No—no—please—fuck—STOP—”

Phei closed the distance in two strides.

He grabbed Aiden by the throat, lifted him, spun him, and hurled him stomach-first onto the edge of the marble coffee table.

CRACK.

Ribs gave way like dry twigs. Aiden vomited instantly—blood, bile, whiskey—splattering the floor. Phei planted a foot on the small of his back, pinning him face-down in his own mess, then dropped both knees onto Aiden’s spine.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Three vertebrae popped audibly. Aiden’s scream turned into a high, animal wail. Phei yanked his head up by the hair—strands tearing free—and drove fist after fist into the kidneys—left, right, left, right—each punch sinking so deep Aiden’s body convulsed like it was being electrocuted.

Then the face.

Phei flipped him over, straddled his chest, and rained punches down in a blur too fast to count.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM—

Cheekbones caved. Orbital rims shattered. Jaw unhinged completely. Teeth scattered like dice across the marble. One eye burst under a knuckle; the other swelled shut in seconds, leaking viscous fluid.

Aiden’s begging dissolved into wet, gurgling whimpers—then silence as shock took him.

Phei rose.

He moved between the three broken bodies like a reaper harvesting sin.

Anderson tried to crawl—Phei stomped down on his hand, grinding the bones to paste under his heel, then kicked him in the ribs until more snapped and Anderson vomited blood in thick ropes.

Zack tried to shield his face—Phei ripped the arms away like paper and hammered knuckles into both eyes until they were pulped sockets weeping red tears. Aiden twitched once—Phei knelt, grabbed his ears, and slammed his head into the floor—once, twice—until the skull cracked and Aiden went still.

The room was a charnel house.

Blood streaked the walls in long, dripping arcs. Shattered teeth crunched underfoot like gravel. Piss, vomit, and crimson pooled together on the marble.

The three legacy princes—once gods among other teenagers—lay twisted in unnatural angles: faces unrecognizable masses of swollen meat, bone fragments, and leaking fluid; bodies broken in dozens of places; dignity stripped to nothing but whimpering, piss-soaked wreckage.

Phei stood above them, breathing slow and even, knuckles split to white bone and dripping steadily, black frost curling thicker from his shoulders like living smoke, the temperature in the room now so cold their blood steamed where it hit the floor.

His voice, when it came, was quiet. Almost serene.

“You touched what is mine!

How. Dare. You. Insolents!”

He cracked his neck once—slow, deliberate.

The sound echoed louder than any scream.

Part one had ended.

The real punishment was only now beginning.