?Chapter 882:


    Amon walked up to the taxi like he was taking azy afternoon stroll,pletely unfazed by the tension or the weapons. He rapped his knuckles on the hood and spoke through the windshield, his voice calm and casual. “Sir, you’re good. Take your passenger and go. I’ve got it from here.”


    Then he turned to Ste and gave her a cocky smile through the window. He even blew her a kiss, two fingers to his lips as though the entire situation were just a game.


    Ste just stared at him, stunned. Why was it always him? Every time something went sideways, every time she was cornered—he was the one who showed up. Was it all just coincidence? Or something more?<fn187e> Official source is find?novel</fn187e>


    The man in ck up front clearly wasn’t having it. Amon’s cocky grin only seemed to fuel his rage. With a grunt, he lunged forward, swinging his baton hard.


    Amon’s smirk twisted into something sharper. His eyes went cold. He didn’t dodge so much as glide—a fluid sidestep, then a blur of movement. His hand came down like a de, cracking into the guy’s wrist.


    There was a loud crunch. The baton ttered to the ground, and the man screamed.


    Without missing a beat, Amon grabbed his arm, pivoted, and threw him clean over his shoulder. The man hit the pavement hard—a perfect, brutal takedown. The rest of the crew rushed in.


    Amon didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked excited—like this was the part he’d been waiting for. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he met them head-on, fists flying.


    He didn’t fight pretty. He fought smart—quick, dirty, efficient. Every strike was aimed to drop someone fast. No hesitation, no wasted moves.


    In the tight alleyway, under the dim light, the sound of punchesnding and bodies hitting the ground echoed harshly.


    The taxi driver was frozen behind the wheel. Ste sat stiffly in the back seat, her heart pounding. She had never seen Amon like this. Theid-back, joking mask he usually wore was gone—peeled away in an instant. Right now, he was a wild animal. Cornered, and terrifyingly skilled.


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    Within two minutes, it was over. All of them—the men in ck—were down. Groaning. Motionless.


    Amon cracked his neck, shook out his wrist, then smoothed down his wrinkled shirt like none of it had happened. He walked over to the obstructing car, yanked open the door, and dragged out the driver. The guy looked like he’d seen a ghost. Amon tossed him to the ground without a second nce.


    Then, with azy flick of his hand, he waved toward the taxi.


    The driver snapped out of his shock, started the engine with trembling hands, and carefully eased past the wreckage and bodies. Then he hit the gas, eager to put that alley behind them.


    Through the rear window, Ste looked back. Amon stood in the middle of the chaos—smoke curling from a cigarette now lit between his lips. The ember glowed faintly in the dark.


    He didn’t move. He just watched them go, his face unreadable.


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