My Sworn Brother Was Tortured,But I Am the God of Thunder!Chapter 1
Thomas Harding, the Sunfire Immortal who'd guarded the Sunfire Temple for millennia, finally got bored.
He insisted on dragging me down to the mortal world, said he wanted the full immersive experience of the twenty-first century.
He wore me down until I had no choice but to agree.
The moment we crossed over, he became the long-lost true-born son of an elite family, and I became the precious only child born late in life to the city's most powerful syndicate boss.
When the Harding family took Thomas back, I warned him: if they give you any trouble, we dust off our hands and head straight back to the Ninth Heaven.
He laughed it off. Said what birth parents wouldn't love their own child? Besides, the family's other son had been nothing but friendly. Told me not to worry.
I couldn't talk him out of it, so I let it go.
Then came the day I was about to queue up for my next game, and I felt the signal of Thomas's Immortal Soul shattering.
——
"Double Kill!"
Kill effects blazed across my monitor.
I was reaching for the Enter key to trash-talk the other team when a searing, bone-deep pain ripped through my chest.
This wasn't mortal flesh hurting.
This was a shockwave tearing straight through my Immortal Soul.
I shoved the keyboard away, one hand pressed to my chest, face drained of all color.
Thomas. Thomas Harding. My sworn brother, the Sunfire Immortal, who'd come down to the mortal world with me to live out a human life.
Before we descended, we'd exchanged Fate Sigils. The moment either of us faced mortal danger, the other's soul would receive a distress signal.
Right now, the sigil bound to his life force was cracking apart.
Thomas, who had sworn to me that no birth parents could ever hurt their own child, was dying.
I kicked the gaming chair out of my way, snatched the car keys off the desk, and bolted.
"Harry Driscoll! Bruno Kessler!" My voice tore down the corridor like a thunderclap.
The entire Dunn mansion erupted.
In under thirty seconds, dozens of thick-necked enforcers in black suits came pouring down from every floor, lining up in front of me in tight formation.
"Young Heir!"
My father, Malcolm Dunn, ran the most powerful syndicate in the city. He'd been going legitimate in recent years, but the ferocity in his bones kept every last person from crossing him.
I clenched my jaw. My eyes were murder.