Chapter 1386:


    Maxwell’s fingers trembled violently. Tears blurred his sight until the world dissolved into smears of light and shadow. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, only sharpening the sting. His vision burned, reddened, as if mes had taken root behind his eyelids.


    He bit down on his lower lip, nearly breaking the skin.


    Memories surged through him with merciless force.


    Five years ago—torrential rain, a deserted country road, mud swallowing him whole as he bled out under the downpour. Hunted, cornered, half-conscious, he had believed death would im him in that lonely darkness.


    But Chris had arrived through the curtain of rain like a final beam of hope. The man with the cold face and the unwavering gaze had dragged him into his car without a word of hesitation.


    Maxwell still remembered the voice that cut through the storm. “Since I saved you, we are bound by fate. You shall not die as long as I refuse to allow it.”


    Those words had been steady, powerful—the only warmth Maxwell had felt that night.


    Later, when Maxwell had nowhere left to run, Chris had extended his hand again. “If you don’t want to return to the Payne family of Drakmire, thene with me to Wront. From this day on, the ck market shall be under your management.”


    From that moment, they had be brothers not by blood, but by survival. Their bond had been forged in stormwater and life-or-death loyalty.


    Yet now—Chrisy fallen under gunfire.


    “Chris… I have not repaid the life you gave me,” Maxwell breathed, pressing his knuckles so hard against the rifle stock that the grooves dug into his skin.


    Tears fell onto the metal in quiet, steady drops. He wiped them again, but the world remained blurred, smeared with grief.


    Gritting his teeth, Maxwell forced his senses to sharpen.


    The banquet hall below erupted again. Another gunshot.


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    Shadows surged through the room. More masked figures appeared—several this time, slipping from the crowd like phantoms.


    Maxwell’s heart clenched. There was no time left for sorrow. No space for fear.


    He swallowed every tremor of pain and anchored his aim once more. Despite the blood trickling from the wound on his lip, despite the sting down his chin, he remained relentless.


    He aimed. He fired.


    He struck down each figure that crossed his scope.


    Until the inevitable click. The chamber was empty.


    But the enemies kept multiplying. More shadows. More masks. More silent killers crawling out from among the guests.


    A wave of despair hit him. In all his calctions, he had never imagined Cooper Group would unleash assassins of this magnitude.


    These were not ordinary attackers. Their steps were precise. Their movements low, fluid, lethal.


    He had already taken down five, yet the rest prowled forward with chilling stealth.


    Below, Maia fought her own storm. She pressed her trembling shoulders over Chris’s fragile body, shielding him with every breath she had left. Panic quivered in her voice as she called his name again and again.


    “Don’t fall asleep, Chris! Hold on. We’re taking you to the hospital soon. You won’t die. You promised me a grand wedding.”


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