Once An Uber Driver, Now A Trillionaire!

7. Kill Tyler, Now!

Tyler knew Perry was out for his life. Despite the stabbing pain in his legs, he dragged himself out of the VIP department. He gritted his teeth, hiding the agony that threatened to cripple him. Step by step, he pushed forward. Just as he reached the main hospital reception, the worst happened—Perry's men stormed in.

Their eyes met. The air thickened.

“Well, look what we have here,” one of them sneered. “The catch of the day. What a lucky break.”

Before Tyler could utter a word, one of the men slammed his head against the wall. Darkness crashed down like a wave.

When he came to, everything had changed.

He was tied to a chair in a half-built, empty building. His hands were bound behind him. Breathing was difficult, each gasp scraping his throat. His head throbbed. Blood matted his hair. But the fury inside him still burned.

He looked up, his eyes full of loathing. Perry stood before him.

“I knew you sent them,” Tyler croaked. “What now? You want my other kidney too? Sell it off like you did the first one?”

Perry’s face tightened with rage. “So you did overhear the conversation. You heard everything Becca and I said, didn’t you? You were going to rat us out to the cops!”

Tyler coughed, blood trickling from his mouth. “You're lucky I didn’t make it to the reception desk. I would’ve exposed you to the world. It’s about time they stopped worshipping their favorite celebrity potter and saw you for what you really are. A monster.”

Fury ignited in Perry’s eyes. He lunged forward, grabbing Tyler’s hair with a vicious grip. “You think you can talk to me like that?”

Tyler winced but didn’t scream. He clenched his jaw, enduring it. But Perry wasn’t done. He pulled Tyler’s head and slammed it against the concrete wall.

Thud!

The sound echoed.

Pain exploded in Tyler’s skull.

Again, Perry slammed his head. Then a third time.

Crack. Blood splattered.

Tyler's body slumped forward, barely conscious, but still alive.

Perry stepped back and snatched a pistol from one of his men. He loaded it with a cold click, then aimed it at Tyler’s heaving chest.

“I should’ve killed you long ago,” he growled. “You’re nothing but a threat. And now, it’s time to say goodbye.”

He steadied the weapon, finger tightening on the trigger—then froze.

His eyes narrowed.

“The amulet. Where is it?”

He lowered the gun slightly, his voice sharp and furious. “I was tasked to deliver that amulet, Tyler. Don't make this more painful than it has to be. Just hand it over.”

Tyler spat blood, lips curling into a weak, defiant smile. “You’ll never get the amulet. Not now, not in your next seven lives.”

Perry gave a cold, humorless laugh and crouched in front of him, their faces inches apart.

“You really think I’m asking?”

Perry dragged up Tyler’s blood-soaked white shirt, searching. His eyes widened.

The amulet was gone.

He grabbed Tyler’s chin with a bruising grip. “Where on earth is that amulet? Where did you keep it?”

Tyler, barely able to keep his head upright, stared at him with bloodshot eyes. “Your worst mistake, Perry, was underestimating me. You thought I’d be easy. You thought I’d be weak. But I’d rather die than let a filthy animal like you lay hands on that amulet.”

Fury twisted Perry’s face. He kicked the chair hard, toppling it. Tyler crashed to the ground with the chair landing on top of him, still bound tight. He groaned, chest heaving beneath the crushing weight.

“You misplaced the amulet,” Perry spat. “Now you get the death you truly deserve.”

He started kicking the chair, each blow pressing it harder against Tyler’s ribs. Tyler couldn’t shield himself. His arms were tied, his body pinned. All he could do was take it.

Perry’s boots slammed into him, over and over. He didn’t stop. He rolled the chair, stomping Tyler’s side, targeting his ribs and his already damaged kidney. Tyler gasped for air, body jerking with each brutal impact.

The pain was unbearable, yet Tyler refused to scream.

Perry finally stepped back, breath uneven, face glistening with sweat and rage. “Kill him,” he ordered. “I don’t care how. Just make sure he dies in pain.”

His men didn’t hesitate.

Seven of them circled Tyler like vultures. One stomped on his face. Another slammed his head into the concrete floor. Fists and boots came from every direction. Blood poured freely from his mouth, nose, and temple.

Still, he held on.

Perry turned to leave. That was when Tyler forced himself to speak.

“Don’t think you’ve won, Perry.”

Perry stopped at the doorway. He didn’t look back.

“You, Becca, Gloria… everyone who ever spat on me will suffer. You may be on top today, but tomorrow... tomorrow will be my turn. And I promise you, you’ll wish you didn’t live to see it.”

Perry gave a slow, mocking smile and walked away.

The beating continued.

The men didn’t stop. Hours passed. Tyler was covered in blood, his body a broken mess. Bones cracked. Skin tore. He was no longer groaning. He barely moved.

One of the men stepped back, panting. “Boss, I don’t think he’s dying anytime soon. We should just finish him.”

Another one agreed. “He’s too far gone. He can’t even feel the pain anymore. His ribs are shattered. Let’s end it.”

The leader nodded slowly, then pulled out his gun. He pointed it straight at Tyler’s head and loaded the bullet.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

BOOM!

The gun went off and struck him.