?Chapter 853:
As for the kids Yvonne was carrying? Balfour had ns for them. Once his old man kicked the bucket and he had the throne all to himself, those two brats would be eliminated—permanently.<fn4e92> Latest content published on Find_Novel(.</fn4e92>
His father had made it crystal clear: Christina had to be taken alive. No killing, no funny business. That restriction irritated him to no end. Still, his father had dangled a juicy reward—ten percent of thepany shares—if he pulled it off. Trading one…
Troublesome woman for ten percent of the business? That was a bargain he was more than willing to make.
“Mr. Glyn, it’s been nearly thirty minutes. You think that woman might’ve opted against showing up out of fear?” The leader of the hired group of mercenaries, standing beside Balfour, finally voiced the thought that had been nagging at him.
“If she doesn’t show up, her friend will die.” Balfour gave a wicked sneer. He looked like he had it all under control, but deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure Christina would take the bait ande. Still, given how tight she was with Davina, it was hard to believe she’d just walk away.
“People value their own skin more than friendship,” the mercenary leader muttered with a note of disapproval.
When it came down to life or death, friendships often withered and died. In moments like that, the closest bonds could snap. Even brothers could betray each other without blinking—that was just the way humans were wired.
Balfour drew a gleaming knife from his belt, a twisted grin curling on his lips. “If she’s decided not toe, I’ll make her friend scream in agony. I’ll stream every second of it right to her.”
He spun the de between his fingers, eager for some twisted entertainment while waiting on Christina. He decided to head off and have a little fun tormenting Davina first.
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But just as the mercenary leader turned to follow, a sudden chill crept up his spine like an invisible hand gripping his neck. Something was off. His instincts red. He reached for his gun in a sh—but he wasn’t quick enough. A bullet mmed into his wrist, and his weapon ttered to the floor uselessly.
The other four mercenaries didn’t even get that far. They barely got their hands on their guns before bullets punched through their skulls. Each of them dropped like sacks of meat in a heartbeat.
The mercenary leader clutched his bleeding wrist, his eyes wide with disbelief, staring at his fallenrades whoy sprawled on the floor. It didn’t make any sense. How could this be happening? Their eyes were still open in frozen shock. They were gone. Every single one of them was dead.
The mercenary leader’splexion drained of all color as he watched the slowly materializing silhouette with paralyzing dread.
It appeared to be a woman whose mere existencepelled reverence and a chilling stillness from all nearby. She brandished twin pistols, her expression cold and overpowering, resembling a monarch presiding from high above, regarding mere mortals beneath her notice.
The mercenary leader was puzzled. Who on earth was this woman? He abruptly recalled a mythic warrior—an individual reputed to have destroyed an entire guild of assassins unaided. A shadowymander of a lethal cabal, whispered about under the alias Deathbringer.
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