Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 330

Chapter 330: Helena’s Call
Their breathing slowed, but the silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full. Saturated. The kind of silence that only came after everything had been said through hands, through mouths, through bodies pressed too close to leave room for lies.

Tessa didn’t move.

Her leg was thrown across his like it had always belonged there, her face buried in the curve of his neck, inhaling him like his scent was a drug and she was too far gone to care about sobriety. One of her hands rested over his heart—steady, alive, warm. Her thumb rubbed slow circles on his chest, absent-minded, like she was trying to memorize every beat before time came to tear her away.

And Parker… he just held her.

One arm across her waist, the other behind her head, tangled in her hair, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it was daring him to fall asleep and waste a second of this.

His mind wasn’t quiet.

Not really.

The Origin Families. The looming meet. The whispering flames he was suspecting inside the Big Five. His empire, still embryonic but already attracting predators. The Champions. The gods. Chione.

Everything was lined up like dominoes just waiting to be flicked.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Because she was here.

Because this—her heartbeat, her breath on his collarbone, the way she shifted just a little tighter into his arms when the AC blew cold—this was the only thing in his world that didn’t require power to protect. Just presence.

Just him.

“Do you still trust me?” she asked softly, barely audible.

He didn’t answer immediately.

He turned, just enough to see her face, her hair messy, lips red, eyes still glassy with everything they hadn’t spoken.

“I never stopped,” he said.

Tessa closed her eyes, like that truth had hurt and healed her all at once. She kissed his chest, right above his heart.

And whispered, “Then when I tell you… everything—don’t hate me.”

Parker didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

He just nodded once. “You’re mine, Tessa. Secrets or not.”

Her breath shook against his skin.

And for the first time in weeks, she let go of the fear.

Let go of everything.

Just for tonight.

Because in this bed, in these arms, she wasn’t the daughter of the Wilders. She wasn’t the girl with dangerous blood or a fractured past.

She was his.

She kissed him.

And that kiss was her lifeline. The anchor in the chaos she didn’t know was already closing in. She opened her mouth to say something soft, something selfish like don’t let go—but fate, as usual, had terrible timing.

Knock knock.

The door behind them thudded once.

Simultaneously, his phone lit up with a familiar low buzz on the dresser. A system alert pinged through his vision. Three interruptions. One moment. Like the heavens had teamed up just to be assholes.

Parker didn’t blink. Just dismissed the system notification with a flick, not even sparing it a glance. Priorities.

Tessa exhaled with an eye roll and started tugging on her clothes. “I’ll get the door,” she muttered, not even trying to hide how annoyed she was. The moment was gone—but not forgotten. It clung to her skin like his scent.

He watched her with a glance that lingered, then reached for his phones—yes, plural, because one wasn’t enough when you pissed off this many people.

Cassidy.

Helena.

Two names. Two worlds. Both ringing at the same damn time.

He sighed and answered Cassidy first. “I’ll call you back. After today. Maybe evening.” His tone was velvet laced with steel. Calm. Final. He hung up before she could argue.

Then his gaze slid to the second call like it was some fly on a crystal glass.

Helena.

The name used to carry weight. Used to spin a dagger in his chest. Now? It barely scratched the surface.

Parker picked up the call like it was some relic he’d forgotten existed. No warmth in his tone. No welcome. Just a sharp breath and a voice dipped in barbed sarcasm.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite aunt,” he drawled. “Calling to check in on her long-lost nephew? How sweet. I might cry.”

Helena’s sigh was soft, nearly inaudible—but he caught it. Of course he did.

He could guess what was happening on her end. That old internal war she probably lived with now. The one where her pride wanted to bite back, but her new reality forced her to kneel. That same pride, now strangled by the name he carried—Nyxilith. Not nephew. Not boy. Ruler.

“Your Highness,” she finally said, voice smooth, reverent, almost too formal—like even the phone line might burn if she forgot who she was talking to. “Greetings.”

He rolled his eyes so hard his vision almost rebooted. “Spare me the ceremonial bullshit and get to the point. I don’t have all day.”

There was a beat of silence. Then she said, calm and poised, “I only wished to clear the air, before you meet the Origin Bloodlines tonight.”

He let out a sharp scoff. “Oh really? How noble. You woke up today and decided to have a conscience?”

“No,” she replied softly, careful. “Only clarity. I don’t mean to frustrate you, Your Highness. I wanted to tell you about the order your mother gave… to the Families. Before she went. To clear the air before you meet them.”

A pause followed.

A long one.

She might’ve mistaken it for reflection.

She might’ve even thought he was letting her speak out of respect. But when his voice came through again, it didn’t rise—it dropped, low and dangerous. Like thunder about to cave in the ceiling.

“I don’t give a fuck about whatever ‘order’ she left behind,” he said, venom wrapped in velvet. “Not one. Not to them. Not to you. Everything will be settled when they meet me tonight. And when that happens—” His voice tightened. “Every. One. Pays.”

The fury in his voice wasn’t loud. It was surgical. Controlled. But it burned like a blade fresh out the forge.

Helena didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

Not immediately.

“If that’s all you called for,” Parker added, voice clipped, “then I’m disappointed.”

“N-no,” she said quickly. “There’s something else.”

He leaned back against the dresser, cool and unbothered. “Shoot away.”