?Chapter 1596:
Even so, the bound-up assassins red at Rhys with bloodshot eyes, their faces twisted with unbridled hatred. They were like caged beasts, desperate for a taste of vengeance but utterly powerless to im it.
Unfortunately for them, before they had been delivered here, Brodie had taken the liberty of dislocating each of their jaws. Their fury was suffocating, but all they could do was seethe in silence.
Brodie Chapman—Rhys’ most trusted right-hand man in the Sovereign of the Underworld. A ghost in the shadows, rarely seen, never openly associated with Rhys. Their paths had not crossed in three years.
Now, standing before him, Brodie lowered his head with unwavering respect.
“Mr. Green, how would you like me to handle them?”
Rhys turned the key, the low growl of the engine slicing through the heavy air. He barely spared the assassins a nce before murmuring in a voice soft as silk but cold as death, “Kill them all.”
“Understood.”
Brodie stood motionless, watching as Rhys’ car disappeared into the night. A secondter, the warmth in his eyes dissipated like mist at dawn, leaving behind nothing but a chilling emptiness. A shiver ran down the spines of the helpless assassins.
Brodie’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he exhaled. A flicker of something unreadable—perhaps pity, perhaps indifference—shed in his gaze.
“Consider it a mercy that you die together.”
Then, Brodie immediately drew a dagger from his waist, slit the assassins’ throats, and took out a lighter and oil from his pocket, setting the entire ce on fire.
Until the banquet drew to a close, Kareem couldn’t quite put his finger on the growing sense of familiarity gnawing at him. The female bodyguard stationed by Barry’s side stirred something in his subconscious, yet the realization eluded him. It was only at the end, when a peculiar impulse overtook him, that he discreetly snapped a photo of her back and sent it to Harlee with a single message: “Doesn’t she look just like you?”
Standing in the dimly lit corner, Harlee’s finely sculpted eyebrows arched ever so slightly as she gazed at her phone screen. A flicker of amusement danced in her usually inscrutable eyes—something yful, almost girlish. It was a fleeting moment, but Barry, who happened to nce her way, was thunderstruck. His jaw nearly hit the floor. Was this really the same ruthless Harlee he knew? The woman who could freeze a room with a single nce?
Harlee cast Barry a sidelong look, as indifferent as the moon gazing upon the waves. Then, with an unreadable expression, she lowered her gaze back to her phone, typing a brief response to Kareem.
“She does resemble me a little.”
She neither confirmed nor denied that the woman was her, choosing instead to weave an air of ambiguity. After hitting send, she pocketed her phone, effectively shutting out any further inquiries from Kareem.
“Let’s go,” Harlee said to Barry, her tone steady and unhurried.
Barry, ever the cautious one, dared not question her at such a critical moment.
He nodded obediently.
“The security team will escort me back to the hotel.”
Harlee responded with a soft hum, saying nothing more.
She had anticipated an ambush on the way back—assassins lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. But the night remained eerily quiet. Instead, she received news from Judson that everyst assassin from North Ind had been eliminated in the outskirts closest to the banquet hall. Their bodies, reduced to charred remains, bore no traceable evidence.
Had it not been for the newly established intelligencework meticulously tracking the North Ind operatives, even Judson wouldn’t have been able to confirm the identities of the incinerated corpses.
It was peculiar, to say the least. But Harlee wasn’t one to dwell on unsolved mysteries for long—especially when they worked in her favor. If someone wanted to act as her unseen de, carving a path through her enemies, she wasn’t going to protest.
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