The doors of the shiny black cars began to swing open one by one, and men in black suits emerged with grim expressions etched across their faces. Each of them was armed, clutching sleek rifles and sidearms as if they were an extension of their own limbs. The doors of the two cars at the front also creaked open, and from them stepped Kael and Sullivan. Both men were similarly clad in matching black suits, the faint gleam of their guns catching the afternoon sun. Their presence was commanding, sharp eyes scanning the area as they took in their surroundings.The rest of the men lined up beside their respective vehicles like trained soldiers awaiting orders. Kael and Sullivan walked forward in unison, their boots crunching softly against the gravel as they approached Scott. A heavy tension filled the air as they came to a halt just a few paces away from him and bowed slightly in unison."Boss," Sullivan said, his tone respectful but tinged with concern. "Why the sudden change of plan? We

Scott stared long and hard at the bazooka resting silently in the trunk of the car. His expression was cold—menacing even—as memories surged through his mind. This wasn’t just any weapon. This was the bazooka he had used back in China, the same one that reduced an entire hall to rubble during the violent confrontation against Spider’s men. A single blast had been enough to bring the entire structure crumbling down in flames.It was a devastating weapon—one reserved only for the most dire of circumstances.Originally, Scott hadn’t intended to use it against Mohammed and his men. He had only brought it along in case things went south—if things took a turn he couldn't recover from. But standing here now, shoulder bleeding from a gunshot wound, rage bubbling under his calm facade… he saw no reason to hold back any longer.He had given Mohammed a chance—a real chance—to walk away with his men alive and unharmed. But Mohammed had spat on that offer. Not only had he refused, but he had also

A convoy of shiny, luxurious cars cruised through the bustling streets of the city. The sleek exteriors of the vehicles gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, their polished surfaces catching the light so brilliantly that pedestrians had to avert their eyes. The heavy growl of engines blended with the murmur of the city’s life, creating a symphony of authority and anticipation.Seated in the backseat of the lead vehicle was Mayor Williams, his back leaned stiffly against the plush leather seat, arms folded tightly across his chest. His heart pounded with increasing intensity as the convoy neared Market Square, where he was expected to give a public speech.With a heavy breath, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers hesitated briefly before dialing the number of the vice mayor. The line rang several times before it was finally answered.“Vice Mayor Campbell. How are you doing?” Williams spoke immediately, his voice a forced calm.“I’m going good, sir,” came

"Who are you?! What business do you have here? And who were you trying to assassinate?!" the security guard demanded, his voice sharp and urgent. His pistol remained raised, its muzzle pointed directly at Carl’s head, his finger trembling lightly on the trigger.Carl stood a few meters away, motionless. His hands were lifted calmly above his head in surrender, and his eyes betrayed no fear."Since you've already caught me," Carl said with a calm, confident bellow, "I see no reason to lie."He raised his chin slightly and continued, his voice now laced with a strange sense of detachment."I came here because this building is the tallest in the area—and the perfect vantage point for my operation."The guard narrowed his eyes. "And who exactly were you here to assassinate?"Carl's lips curled faintly, almost as if he were amused. "I came here to kill the Mayor. He's currently giving a speech at the market square. From this height, I have a perfect line of sight. If I shoot him from up he

"You really thought you could betray me and get away with it? Do you even know who I am?" Mr. Fernando growled, his voice now a low, dangerous rumble. "Lately, I've been soft, I admit that. But that doesn’t change who I am. I am Malcolm Fernando—a gang lord. A title earned through the blood of hundreds. I didn’t rise to this position by mercy. So tell me, what made you think you could get away with what you did—or what you’re trying to do?"His eyes, dark and full of fury, glared down at Ice, who stood across from him, unflinching."I knew these men weren’t here to protect you," she replied calmly, her lips curling into a slight, smug smile. "You brought them along to kill me, didn’t you?"Mr. Fernando didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes was all the confirmation she needed."Well, guess what?" Ice continued, tilting her head defiantly. "I also came prepared."As soon as the words left her mouth, a small, metallic object rolled into the warehouse from behind her. It clinked softly