Chapter 1387:


    But Chris’s eyelids grew heavier, sinking with each breath. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound emerged. He lifted a hand to touch Maia’s face, yet it faltered midway and fell back limply.


    “Chris!” Maia cried, her voice fracturing.


    This chaos had long surpassed anything she had feared. The attack was too clean, too deliberate—expertly woven into the event. These assassins had been hiding in in sight all along.


    Her eyes, bright with panic, scanned the riot of lights, overturned tables, and drifting gun smoke.


    But Kiley was nowhere to be seen.


    Maia shifted her gaze back to Chris, his ashen face stinging her heart.


    Her knuckles cracked audibly in a sharp, angry pop as rage surged through her veins, hot and choking. But she forced it down, straining to keep from erupting.


    Resentment churned inside her chest like a storm. If Chris slipped away—if he died here tonight—she would drag Kiley, Kolton, and the entire Cooper Group into the same abyss. She would make them pay for every breath he lost.


    Across the hall, almost in the same heartbeat, Grayson—Death among the Four Horsemen—caught sight of Chris. Something snapped in him. Hisposure, usually cold and unshakable, shattered like brittle ss.


    A raw, guttural “No!” tore from his throat. The sound cracked through the chaos as he hurled himself forward like a man possessed. His men surged with him, a tidal wave of ck-d bodies cutting through the panicked crowd.


    In seconds, they formed an imprable wall around Maia and Chris, shields of flesh and loyalty.


    Every man braced himself without hesitation, prepared to be the first body struck if bullets flew.


    Then a small metallic clink echoed. A smoke bomb rolled across the floor and burst.


    A strange, chemical scent curled into the air, spreading fast, thick, and disorienting.


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    Before fear could take root, two shadows swept into the chaos—gue and Famine, arriving side by side with deadly calm.


    gue said, steady as a de, “Don’t panic. Only those who drank the champagne and inhaled thepound will lose consciousness for a short while.”


    Famine added, almost casually, “And your drinks were switched long before the event began.”


    Though their tones were light, authorityced each word, settling the room like an invisiblemand.


    The frantic energy faltered. Movement slowed. Within seconds, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath.


    As the smoke thinned, War appeared.


    He strode in like a dark omen, nked by a fully armed tactical unit moving with the synchronized precision of machinery.


    Boots thundered against marble. An armed helicopter hovered above the shattered skylight, its searchlights cutting down in sweeping arcs.


    The sudden illumination revealed the carnage.


    Bodiesy strewn across the hall—some unconscious, some writhing, some ominously still.


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