The Last Descendant E-Book

Henry W Taylor II

• Herausgeber: Spines
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The Last Descendant: Origins is the riveting first installment in Henry W Taylor II's epic series. Follow Jason as he navigates a treacherous path filled with danger, secrets, and an ancient legacy that ties him to a forgotten past. When a holiday party turns into a deadly encounter, Jason's life is thrown into chaos. An attack reveals that his heritage holds secrets that powerful enemies are desperate to uncover.

With his best friend Jermaine by his side, Jason delves into the shadows of his family's history, unearthing clues that lead to a shocking revelation: he is the key to a legacy that could change the world. From high-stakes chases to intense combat, Jason must use all his skills to survive. 

A masterful blend of suspense, action, and intrigue. crafts a story that keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to uncover the next piece of the puzzle. As Jason's journey begins, so does an epic saga that will leave you breathless and craving more.

Leseprobe

The Last Descendant

Origins

Henry W Taylor II

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2024

by Henry W Taylor II

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 979-8-89383-875-6

The Last Descendant

Origins

Henry W Taylor II

Contents

I am…Jason Martinez

City Shadows and Gunfire

Back in the Game?

Silent Pacts

Deadly Elegance

The Calm Before the Storm

Unveiled Shadows

The Network Revealed

I Was Made For This

Chaos on Harwin

I am Jermaine Armstrong

Oakcliff, That’s My Hood

Back to the Crescent City

Familiar Places and Crossed Paths

A Mother’s Revenge

Origins of The Network

Face to Face with Death

Aurelia the Bodyguard

Pain, Truth, Deadly Alliance

The Beginning to an End

A City at War

The Siege of Oak Valley Begins

Siege of Oak Valley

It Ends Now

Dawn in the Aftermath

I am…Jason Martinez

Mon présent, mon passé

The vibrant atmosphere of the office holiday party at 12 Greenway Plaza in Houston, TX, enveloped Jason as he moved through the crowd. Laughter, music, and the aroma of LES BBQ filled the air, creating a festive ambiance. Surrounded by employees, Jason basked in the joy of the season, drink in hand, and the sounds of celebration surrounding him. Jason Martinez was a man who knew how to make an impression. His brown skin and muscular frame contrasted with his crisp white shirt and black pants, giving him an air of confidence and authority. His face was framed by a neat and lined-up barbarian-style beard, which added a touch of ruggedness to his handsome features. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and ambition, and his smile was charming and persuasive. On his right hand, he wore a Bochic Burma ring, a stunning piece of jewelry that featured a single ruby encrusted in diamonds. The ring was a symbol of his success and power, as well as his taste and style. Jason was a man who had everything he wanted, and he was not afraid to show it.

As Jason mingled with the crowd, his best friend Jermaine approached, exuding an air of sophistication in his velvet black tuxedo. A glass of apple Crown Royal in hand, Jermaine congratulated Jason on the impressive achievement of reaching $75 million. Jason, acknowledging the shared success, replied, "No, we did it, my boy." Their camaraderie evident, Jason playfully remarked, "You've always been there, even when you were out there with them bitches. I could always count on you to do two things: make business happen and have a bad one." Laughter echoed between them.

Seizing the opportunity to play matchmaker, Jermaine expressed his desire for Jason to meet someone special for the holidays. "Bruh, you know me. And, speaking of bad bitches, I would like you to meet Danica. Can't have my boy with no one on his arm for the holidays." Danica gracefully approached Jason in a tight-fitting cocktail dress that accentuated her curves. Her plum-colored hair added a touch of exotic allure to her cat-like facial features. From what Jason could gather, she was of Asian ethnicity, but her figure hinted at a mixed-race heritage, possibly Hispanic or African American. Danica placed her hand on Jason's arm, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. Jason and Jermaine shared a knowing glance of appreciation before Jermaine made his exit with a chocolate-skinned female whose butt bounced under her loose black skirt when she walked, as if she were in a constant twerking contest. With the scene set for a night of celebration and success, sensuality ruled the air. However, Jason’s physical, lustful attraction to Danica took a back seat to his duties as CEO and Chairman of Danton Enterprise as he prepared to give his remarks.

Leaving Danica, Jason stood on the stage where the band was set up, his royal blue tuxedo shining under the lights. He announced, "Everyone, gather in!" as the crowd moved in, giving him their undivided attention. Clearing his throat, he began, "We have had a successful year this year, and that is all thanks to the work you have done." The crowd cheered loudly as Jason continued, "Settle down, there is no way we could have reached this feat without you, and because of that, myself and my partner," In the corner, Jermaine raised his glass in unison with Jason who continued, "have decided to provide you each with a two thousand dollar holiday bonus."

Jason smiled as screams of appreciation and shouts of, "Hell yeahs" resounded from the crowd.

"As we prepare for another year of trying to take over the real estate market here in Houston and move to cities such as San Antonio and Dallas, and continue to push new tech companies, I would like to leave you with this. Success only happens when the team believes in the vision. Continue to believe in me; we will take over the world." The crowd cheered again. "As a bonus," Jason continued, "I would like to welcome to the stage, Houston's own Paul Wall, Tobe Nwigwe, and the lovely Megan Thee Stallion!" The artists took the stage to perform as Jason met up with Danica. He kissed her passionately before they shared an understood look of wanting and lust and headed toward the exit as the artists performed for the crowded room.

Back at Jason's luxury Hanover penthouse on Morningside Drive, Jason poured Danica a glass of red wine. "Thank you," she replied, accepting the glass. As they looked out of the balcony windows together at the city of Houston, Danica quickly drank her wine and placed her glass on the table. She approached Jason and said, "We both know you didn't bring me here for wine," and kissed him passionately. Jason engaged in the moment, grabbing her butt vigorously before eventually lifting her up and placing her against the glass.

Still embraced in a passionate kiss, Danica unbuttoned his shirt as Jason kissed her neck. He carried her to the bed, removed her panties, and began to kiss her from her inner thighs, working his way into her pelvic mound, where he kissed her slightly before moving to her stomach because of his reservations about oral sex with someone with whom he was not in love. Danica removed her burgundy cocktail dress in unison with Jason's kisses as he moved up her body, enrapturing her nipples between his lips, playfully suckling and licking with his tongue.

Jason removed his shirt, showing his muscular frame and six-pack abs as Danica used her feet to push his pants and underwear down to his feet for him to wrestle off. Kissing her neck, face, and forehead but altogether avoiding her lips and eye contact, Jason slid his erect member into the moist and wanting regions of Danica's vagina, causing a moan to escape her lips. He thrust in a rhythm to music only heard by him yet in satisfaction with Danica's desires. The sound of their clapping pelvis created a musical note of its own to complement the splashing of Danica's wetness as she arched her back in preparation for an orgasmic release.

Feeling her vaginal walls tighten around his manhood, Jason thrust the full extent of his shaft deeply into the office of Danica's love box, moving faster as she met the force of his thrusts and finally exploded in excitement, leaving the evidence of her orgasm along the length of his cock before Jason pulled himself out of her and painted her stomach as if painting a sexually charged canvas made of cum. Jason collapsed on top of her and rolled over beside her, as Danica rubbed her inner thighs. They both lay quietly, breathing heavily next to one another before falling asleep.

In the middle of the night, with Danica peacefully sleeping, Jason put on his favorite purple robe with his initials on the right and LSU on the left. He walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Holding the glass, Jason made his way to the balcony of his penthouse and reveled in the city lights of the Houston City landscape. "I've made it," he thought to himself before being surprised by Danica, who pressed up against him from behind. Setting his glass on the balcony table, he turned around to meet a fully nude Danica smiling at him before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"So, you up for a round two?" she playfully asked before being lifted up into the arms of Jason, who instinctively cupped her naked buttocks. They shared a wanting and passionate kiss before Jason lifted her higher and began to carry her inside.

As Jason moved toward the double open balcony doors, Danica's body fell lifelessly backward. Composing himself enough not to drop her, he went down to one knee. In laughter, thinking it was playful banter, he cradled her head, stating, "You almost got dropped, Shorty. You can't be doing that." As he cradled her head in his hands, his playful smile turned serene and surreal as he recognized it was not a joke and became aware of the hole in her forehead. "7.62x51mm sniper," he thought. Just as he processed the information, the glass of his penthouse shattered. "Shit," he thought as he dropped Danica's lifeless body and rolled into the living room. "Thew," another round shattered the glass table next to the living room sofa. In a quick instinctive action, Jason flipped over the couch, ran toward the kitchen, and dove behind the island countertop as another round lodged into the oven window.

Calming his breath and putting the entire perspective into slow motion, Jason listened...the sound of the shooter reloading. "Single shot sniper," he thought. The next round hit two inches below the oven. "They're walking in..." Jason crawled to the freezer, grabbed a loaded AI AXSR, and placed his back onto the closed door. "Bang." The sound of the round, one inch away from his left shoulder, crashed into the freezer. The sound slightly disoriented his focus as his brain processed, "75-degree angle, clear view of the balcony and refrigerator, no ability to adjust from the middle, and shooting without a spotter. Bet," his final thought fleeting as the round got closer. Jason calmly crawled into the middle of the kitchen, aligned himself at a 90-degree angle, adjusted for upward wind resistance, and laid flat. "Crash!" The position he previously occupied was riddled with a 7.62 round. In one swift motion, Jason rose, looked through his scope, and fired a single round, then laid back down. Listening for a reload, he heard a knock at the door.

"Mr. Martinez, it is Houston PD."

After waiting for approximately seven minutes, Jason gave the okay for the Houston Police to enter.

"Sir, are you okay? There were reports of gunfire and glass breaking from your neighbors," one officer inquired.

As calmly as he could muster, Jason responded, "I am okay, but my partner, I think she is hurt."

The uniformed Houston Police officers rushed toward the balcony. A badge hanging from his belt, a tall Houston PD investigator walked toward Jason with regal and refined composure. He approached Jason as the uniformed officers ran to the balcony to check Danica's status.

"Darren," Jason stated, holding his rifle.

"Boss," the investigator replied. "What happened?"

"Not sure," Jason responded, breathing heavily.

"We're going to need a coroner," one of the officers shouted. Still in awe, Jason handed his rifle to Darren.

When the officers approached, Darren took charge. "There was an attack on one of Houston's up-and-coming entrepreneurs. You came in, saw an injured woman, and determined she was deceased. You called dispatch and asked for further assistance. Do you understand?"

"But what about the AXSR, sir?" one officer replied.

Looking sternly at the officer, his six-foot-five frame dwarfing him, Darren replied, "Officer Carlson, you applied for detective this go-round, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Carlson replied.

"Okay," Darren said, "stick to the narrative, and you will be off the beat and in any investigative department you want." Darren then handed the officer twenty thousand dollars in rolled-up bills. Officer Carlson's eyes lit up like fireworks. He gave a knowing nod of acceptance and understanding, then walked away.

"Where is the coroner?" was heard yelling in the background.

Navigating through the chaos of investigators and media probing into his personal space, Jason stealthily exited with Darren in tow.

"Where to, sir?" questioned Darren.

"Across the street," responded Jason, his focus unwavering and ruthlessly determined.

"I need to ensure your alibi remains unquestioned," stated Darren matter-of-factly, tinged with a hint of reluctance.

"Understood," Jason replied tersely, quickening his pace and vanishing into the shadows.

On the rooftop of an abandoned building overlooking Montrose Boulevard, Jason discovered the lifeless body of his assailant, a single, fatal wound piercing the left eye. Standing over the fallen figure, clad in all-black sweats and wielding a custom AT308, Jason acknowledged the efficiency of his clean shot. The weapon, too extravagant for a common street thug, hinted at a higher echelon – a mercenary's tool.

A familiar sight caught Jason's eye during his examination – a 17th-century Bochic Burma ring adorning the shooter's right hand. A reminiscent symbol, mirroring the one Jason had worn since the age of 17. However, the difference lay in the gold plating of the assailant's ring, distinguishing it as a replica, not an original. Removing the ring and claiming the AT308, Jason tossed the lifeless body over the rooftop's edge, indifferent to the distant screams as it collided with a taxi below.

In the elevator, gripping the ring, a sudden epiphany enveloped him. Jason halted the descent, backed against the cold metal walls, and bowed his head, a mantra echoing in his mind: "I am Jason Martinez." The suspense of the moment lingered in the air, shrouding Jason in an eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city below.

City Shadows and Gunfire

Mourir n'est pas une option

"Huh, huh, huh, huh," Jermaine panted, fully engaged in a sprint for his life. The sound of the crash echoed as the black 1992 Chevy Caprice slammed into a dumpster, tires screeching as it raced toward him. Dodging between buildings on Texas Street, next to Alley Theatre, Jermaine reached into his coat, revealing a titanium Desert Eagle. Checking the clip while still in full stride, he looked back and fired three shots at the driver, hitting the windshield and causing the car to collide with the side of a building with a loud thud.

"Shit!" Jermaine exclaimed as the impact failed to break the windshield.

Not paying attention to what lay ahead, Jermaine exited the short alleyway, only to be met with a sudden impact. "Bam! Fuuck!" he yelled as a black 1990 Buick LeSabre crashed into him, throwing him to the cold ground. Disoriented from the collision, Jermaine moaned in pain, his six-foot-two frame stretched across the ground as he rolled back and forth, clutching his arm. In the distance, he heard a door open and footsteps approaching. The sound of a nine-millimeter being charged echoed through the night.

"Three... Two... One..." Jermaine rolled onto his back, firing two shots at his assailant. One round hit the chest, and the other passed through the neck. Swiftly rolling over to secure his feet, Jermaine sprinted from a runner's stance before the body could hit the ground. Screeching tires echoed behind him as he ran down the street, bystanders now in panic, witnessing the gruesome scene.

"Pew!" A shot flew by him, hitting a female in the arm.

"Move, move!" he cried, pushing people out of the way as he ducked and weaved through the crowds.

Finally able to disappear into the crowd, Jermaine bent over in pain, attempting to catch his breath. Pulling out his cracked phone, the screen still functional, he leaned against the wall and gazed toward the sky, panting vigorously. Suddenly, he noticed a man with an outstretched arm to his left. In a swift motion, Jermaine ducked, pushing the man's arm upward as the gun discharged with a "Pow."

Reacting quickly, Jermaine punched the man in the armpit, gripped his elbow firmly, and pulled him towards him to prevent him from falling backward. In one seamless move, Jermaine drew his Desert Eagle and fired two shots into the man's torso. As the lifeless body slumped forward, a splatter of blood landed on Jermaine's face. Peering over the shoulder, he swiftly ducked as multiple rounds from another shooter struck the corpse.

Returning fire in no particular direction, Jermaine aimed to make the attackers take cover. Seizing the opportunity, he pushed the lifeless body to the ground and sprinted as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

"Pew, pew... pew" Bullets whizzed by his head, hitting nearby walls.

"Siri, call J, call J!" Jermaine exclaimed, stammering in pain as he attempted to run, his focus on seeking help.

Back in the Game?

De retour dans le jeu

"Ayy (Ayy), ayy (Ya), ayy (Ya), ayy (Ya), look (Look). This that shit that made me ball out on my old bitch, ooh (Ooh). Yeah, I'm chosen."

The lyrics of Joyner Lucas sang out through Jason's phone, signaling Jermaine's call.

"What up, bro," Jason answered in a slow tone, still gathering his thoughts from the recent events.

A loud wail came through the other end. "Bruh! Where are you? They on my ass!" Jermaine screamed, talking excitedly and panting through breaths of air.

"What you mean, they on your ass?" Jason asked, now standing on his feet, gripping the AT308 tightly in his hand.

As soon as the words escaped his lips, he heard the crash of glass shattering on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know!" Jermaine yelled.

"Where are you now?" Jason asked again.

"I'm on Memorial by Smoothie King," Jermaine answered.

"Okay, head toward Bayou Bend Garden," Jason directed, then hung up the phone.

Taking the elevator to the car garage, Jason sprinted out, careful to conceal the sniper rifle in his possession and avoid drawing attention. Houston Police were still present, processing two crime scenes—the one in his apartment and the body he threw off the roof onto the taxi.

Stopping behind a brick pillar at the garage exit, Jason observed the coroner rolling Danica's body into the van. The flashing blue and red lights cast eerie reflections on his face. Exploiting the chaos, Jason slipped through the crowd and made his way down the tunnel, quickly reaching the elevator to retrieve his car.

Stopping on the 6th floor, he rushed to the trunk of his 2022 Midnight Blue Land Rover. Jason threw in the AT308 and swiftly changed clothes—donning a dark blue v-neck t-shirt, a black Kevlar vest, black steel-toe Timberland boots, and equipping himself with a 9mm Beretta Nano and SD-9. Additionally, he grabbed his backup long-range rifle, a Barrett Mk22 MRAD, loading a cartridge as he walked to the driver's seat. Throwing the rifle on the passenger side, he closed the door and sped off.

To avoid the traffic that had escalated due to the chaos, he opted to take Hanover to Woodway Drive. Not spotting any other vehicles, he ran through the stoplight, with city lights whizzing by in blurs. Thoughts raced through his mind, "I have to get to my boy." He pressed the gas as far as it could go, skillfully weaving through the minor traffic on the roadways as he passed under Interstate 610 onto Memorial Drive.

Jermaine ducked behind a dumpster and fired two shots at the vehicle chasing him. The vehicle swerved, screeching its tires, and a hand from the passenger side returned fire, with bullets ricocheting off the dumpster. In a panic, Jermaine returned his final shot, missing the shooter. Screams of bystanders rang out, synchronizing with the tires screeching as the vehicle restarted its pursuit. Jermaine attempted to run, but exhaustion and the pain from being initially hit by the car caught up to him. He could only muster a half-hearted stammer. The vehicle slammed into the dumpster with a loud "Crash," pushed it into Jermaine's body and caused him to fly across the parking lot.

Jermaine heard both doors open and rolled onto his back and laughed as his attackers approached his battered body on the ground in the Bayou Bend Garden parking lot.

"What's so funny?" a deep-voiced male asked.

Through panting breaths and muffled coughs, Jermaine responded, "Shit, I thought leaving the game would be safer, and now I'm being taken out by motherfuckers in the corporate world, the same as it would have been done in the 5th Ward back in New Orleans."

"You never leave the game, Jermaine," the other assailant replied as he pointed his gun at him.

"Right on," Jermaine replied, "Let's get it over with. Just don't shoot me in the face; at least I can be buried as a pretty motherfucker." Smiling, Jermaine closed his eyes to accept his fate. Through shallow breaths, Jermaine heard a muffled blast.

"Umph," a body hit the ground, and then shots rang out, going skyward as the remaining assailant fired desperately in every direction.

"Umph," Jermaine opened his eyes as his last attacker grabbed his throat, a stream of blood flowing consistently from his neck into his hands as he fell to the ground. With a knowing smile, Jermaine thought to himself, "J, I owe you one, you slow motherfucker," as he lay still, unable to move from exhaustion and injury.

Pulling up slowly and getting out of the vehicle, Jason approached Jermaine. "You good, bro?" he asked.

"Yeah, man, get me the fuck out of out of here," Jermaine replied.

Jason assisted Jermaine into his Land Rover, buckled his seat belt, and sped off. "What the fuck just happened?" Jason exclaimed.

Through panted breaths, Jermaine responded, "Bro, I don't know. But I can tell you these motherfuckers knew my name. This was a hit and was not by accident. Whoever it is wants me dead."

"You and me both," Jason exclaimed.

"What do you mean, both? What happened to you?" Jermaine asked.

"Sniper tried to take me out at my spot; they hit Danica. I got his ass, but there are cops and shit all over my place."

Interrupting their conversation, Jason's phone rang as he answered it through the Bluetooth speakers. "Yo," he yelled.

"Hey, Mr. Martinez, it's Detective Darren Thomas with Houston Police Homicide. You disappeared, and we need you for more questioning."

Realizing that he was called Mr. Martinez instead of boss, Jason chose his words carefully, understanding that the attack had garnered both media and possibly the Commissioner's attention. "I'll meet you at the precinct. I needed to air out some business and pick up a family member who needed medical attention. I'm going to drop him off at Dr. Hiyashi’s first."

"Understood, sir, I'll meet you there," Darren stated before hanging up.

"You taking me to Hiyashi? This must really mean we back in the game, huh?" Jermaine asked.

"I don't think you ever leave the game, bro. I think you knew that too, which is why we always stayed strapped up. The only question at this point is who. We figure out the who, we find the why. Until then, Hiyashi is the only one I trust to get you back one hunnid so we can figure this shit out," Jason explained.

"I got you; you know I'm my brother's keeper," Jermaine responded before closing his eyes and basking in the moment of quiet and calmness that had evaded him for the last two hours.

Silent Pacts

Pactes Silencieux

Finally arriving at Hiyashi's place, Jason told Jermaine, "Stay here until he's ready," as he placed his Beretta Nano into his left hand. Without opening his eyes, Jermaine nodded. Jason approached the door and rang the doorbell. In his impatience, what seemed like five minutes was actually more like thirty seconds. A frail-looking older Japanese male opened the door, accompanied by a beautiful young Japanese female in a pink kimono.

"Jason, what do you need?" Hiyashi asked.

"Jermaine has been injured and needs some special attention, and you are the only one I trust," Jason explained.

"You are the only one we trust for special treatment for Jermaine," the woman translated in Japanese.

“You know the rules,” Hiyashi replied in Japanese.

Before she could complete her translation, Jason had already bowed before Mr. Hiyashi with his hands extended, offering him two hundred thousand in rolled-up bills. "Thank you, please take care of him," Jason said.

Assessing the attraction in the air, Hiyashi responded angrily, "My granddaughter is off-limits. If you want a Japanese girl, you pay. You understand, don't you?"

"Grandfather says I am off-limits, and you should keep your interests away from me. If you would like Japanese company, you can pay like the others. I am Asami, a translator only."

As Asami smiled, she was met by a hard slap from Hiyashi, turning her face backward. “I didn't say that," Hiyashi yelled. "And you," he continued, "you fuck my family, I kill you, friend. You understand?"

"Hai," Jason replied, maintaining composure as Hiyashi led the way to a room where Jermaine could receive the necessary care.

Inside, the room was dimly lit and adorned with traditional Japanese decor. A low table was set up with various tools and herbs. Hiyashi instructed Asami to assist with Jermaine while he prepared a concoction for his injuries. Asami, with a hint of defiance in her eyes, began tending to Jermaine's wounds, still upset from being slapped by her grandfather. Jason observed the proceedings in silence as his friend received care.

"He's resting," Hiyashi explained. "Two days, you come, and he'll be ready, okay?"

Jason nodded, shook Hiyashi's hand, and walked toward the door to return to his vehicle for the drive to the Houston Police Precinct.

After arriving at the Houston PD precinct on Montgomery Road, Jason sat in his car to gather his thoughts. Disturbed by a knock on the window, he looked up.

"Boss," Darren said through the glass.