2025-07-02 22:09:26
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I've been through a lot
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
He wasn't running
Scott remained rooted in the dimly lit hallway, his hands tightly gripping the submachine gun, his knuckles pale with tension. His eyes were fixed on the corridor ahead, where the echo of approaching footsteps grew louder by the second. The stale air carried the sound—measured steps that multiplied rapidly into a chorus of threats.Then, emerging several meters away from him, a group of Arabic men turned the corner.“There he is!” one of them shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.Scott raised his weapon without hesitation. His fingers squeezed the trigger.The hallway erupted in deafening gunfire. Muzzle flashes lit the walls in bursts as a rain of bullets surged down the corridor. Men dropped like dominoes, blood splashing onto the tiled floor, turning it into a macabre canvas of death. Some screamed as they fell. Others were cut off mid-shout.Still, the survivors returned fire.Scott was forced to stop shooting and lower his head, ducking back behind cover as bullets tore past him
Trillionaire's Warpath
Scott staggered backwards, a thick trail of blood trickling from the corner of his lips. He raised his trembling hand and wiped it off with the back of his sleeve, then slowly returned his gaze to the man standing menacingly opposite him."This isn’t just an ordinary man..." he mused inwardly, his eyes narrowed and locked on the towering figure before him. "This is a trained killer."Scott’s fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as he slid back into a fighting stance. He had assumed earlier that this man was just like the rest of them—slow, weak, and brittle under pressure. But he had been wrong. Dead wrong. This man wasn’t like them.He was different.Stronger. Faster. Sharper.Taking him down wouldn’t be easy—not even close.The man opposite him let out a deafening war cry, a primal roar that echoed across the hallway like a call to death, before charging forward with incredible speed.Scott stood his ground, muscles tensing as the man closed the distance in the blink of an eye
A trained killer
"Bring down the fucking door!" one of Mohammed’s comrades bellowed audibly.Two towering, muscular men took several steps back from the door, bracing themselves, then charged forward with thunderous momentum, slamming their broad shoulders into it. The wooden frame groaned under the impact, but it held firm.Frustrated, they moved back again, this time with more aggression. They let out a unified battle cry and kicked the door together with all their might. Still, the door refused to break open.“Fuck it,” the same man cursed, raising his gun and pointing it directly at the handle. He fired a single, deafening shot.BANG!The bullet tore through the lock, mangling it completely. The door creaked open slightly. With a grunt of exertion, he kicked it open with a loud crash, and they all stormed into the bathroom, guns raised and fingers resting on the triggers.But the moment they stepped in, they froze simultaneously. Puzzled expressions swept across their faces.Scott was nowhere to b
Bloodshed in the Sanctuary
“Scott Carden! We meet again.” Mohammed’s voice echoed throughout the vast church like thunder rolling through a canyon. “There’s no point in fighting back or running. You’re outnumbered... and surrounded. This is the end for you, Scott Carden. You won’t escape this time. You’re going to die—right here, in this church.”Scott swallowed hard as the words washed over him like a wave of doom. His breathing deepened. He swiftly detached the magazine from the MP5 and examined it under the dim restroom light.Half full.Dozens of men were only a few meters away—and he was almost out of bullets.“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, sliding the magazine back in with a sharp click and cocking the gun. His eyes darted to the golden Rolex on his wrist.His men should’ve been here by now.Where the hell were they?He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. Until they arrived, he had to survive. But it would be a challenge to fend off armed men with only a few rounds left—and nothing but his fist
Crossfire in the chapel
Scott kept pacing back and forth in the restroom, his heart racing, sweat pouring down his face and soaking the collar of his black shirt. His breathing was shallow, his nerves coiled tight with tension.Suddenly, the door slammed open with a loud BANG, crashing against the tiled wall—and in stepped a towering man.He stood at least six feet tall, built like a professional bodybuilder, with bulging muscles that threatened to tear through his black combat attire. In his grasp was an MP5 submachine gun, its muzzle glinting under the restroom’s fluorescent light.Scott froze the second the man entered, his gaze locking on him like a hawk spotting its prey."The Baron wants you downstairs," the man growled, voice gruff and dangerous, his hands gripping the weapon tightly, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.“Baron? That’s strange,” Scott replied coolly. “I could’ve sworn I walked into a church... not a gang’s lair.”The man smirked, a mocking expression twisting his lips. “Seems you’re ye
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