?Chapter 852:


    The whiskered man chuckled mockingly. “Only someone like Balfour would feel threatened by a girl. She’s probably like thest one—looks tough, but can’t fight worth a damn. I’d fold her in half with one kick.”


    “That kills some fun.” The tall man lit another cigarette. “I heard Balfour say she’s quite the looker. Once he’s done having his way, maybe he’ll let us have our fair share of fun with her.” He grinned obscenely, blowing smoke in rings.


    The whiskered man wiped his silenced pistol and spoke. “I’m not interested in women.”


    The tall man and the bald one exchanged a knowing look before snickering sleazily. “Then tomorrow we’ll get you a pretty guy and let you have some real fun! Ha-ha…”


    The bald man chuckled crudely, about to pitch a sick n to pass the targeted woman around when a sudden jolt of agony burst through his forehead. His expression froze. His legs gave way. He toppled.


    That lewd daydream still hung in the bald man’s skull, his filthy grin frozen in death as the lights went out. “Bang!” He thudded against the gravel, eyes unblinking, stunned even in death.


    His lips still curved upward in a vile smile, while the gaping hole above his brow added a grim finality to the scene.


    Before the whiskered man could react, the tall man puffing on his cigarette had already crumpled to the ground—shot clean in the head.<fn13ff> Original content can be found at find?novel</fn13ff>


    Startled out of his wits, the whiskered man opened his mouth to shout for help, but a bullet tore through his forehead before he could even manage a sound. The three bullets came one after another, each hitting dead-on like someone had nned the whole thing down to the second.


    It all unfolded so fast that not a single one of the three men had the chance to draw their weapons, let alone use them.


    And it wasn’t just those three who dropped like flies—four more stationed elsewhere had already been taken out before them.


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    Their lifeless eyes stayed wide open, frozen in a final sh of helpless fear and bitter rage.


    Inside the old, crumbling warehouse, no one had the faintest clue about the bloodbath happening just outside. Seven mercenaries were already down, leaving only five left inside with Balfour.


    Balfour was busy on the phone, looking mighty pleased with himself, a smug grin stretched across his face. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll catch her tonight. She won’t slip through my fingers this time. You just focus on getting better in that hospital bed.”


    He kept on talking for a bit and then finally hung up. Everyone had been fooled into thinking his father had kicked him to the curb—but that had all been part of the ploy. The whole thing had been cooked up to trick that naive woman, Yvonne, into bringing those babies into this world. He was sterile, and his father needed someone—anyone—to carry on the Glyn bloodline.


    At first, Balfour had shed hard with his father, but he’d gotten his head on straight quickly enough. There was no point in fighting his father. It made more sense to butter him up and secure a decent slice of power and a fat chunk ofpany shares.


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