?Chapter 1629:


    “Alright then. Take a seat, and let’s talk this through nice and slow,” Brendan replied.


    Brendan’s gaze flickered to the man holding Ashlyn by the throat before a slow, calcted smile spread across his lips. At his silentmand, the pressure around her neck eased slightly.


    Vincent’s icy eyes settled on Ashlyn before he finally took a seat, his posture rxed. Yet the air between them crackled with tension as he locked icy stares with Brendan.


    With a chuckleced with dark amusement, Brendan leaned forward. “If you want her released, hand over your business in Yata.”


    As soon as the words left his lips, Samuel, standing behind Vincent, sucked in a sharp breath. The Yata business. Though just a fraction of Vincent’s empire, everyone knew that his business dealings in Yata were a lucrative venture—whoever controlled it would be unimaginably wealthy. Yet Brendan demanded it as casually as one might ask for a ss of water.


    Vincent’s expression didn’t waver. “Impossible.” The indifference in his voice seemed to erase any trace of earlier concern for Ashlyn.


    Brendan smirked, unfazed. “Are you certain? Katelyn would be disappointed to hear how little her friend means to you.” His mocking gaze sharpened. “All that talk of devotion—impressive acting.” Rumor had it that Vincent adored Katelyn—enough to throw himself in front of a train if she asked. But loyalty was a rare currency in the Adams family. Cold-blooded. Heartless. The Adams legacy.


    Vincent didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, before anyone could react, he drew his gun and fired at the man close to Ashlyn.


    Bang! The gunshot thundered through the room. The bullet tore through the forehead of Ashlyn’s captor. Blood sprayed, painting the floor crimson as the man crumpled. The metallic stench of blood flooded the room.


    Brendan barely nced at the corpse. “Killing him changes nothing,” he scoffed.


    Feel inspired by gα ?η σ ν?? ??s,


    Of course, it didn’t. If Vincent could be cornered so easily, he wouldn’t have ruled both shadows and legitimate activities for decades. A man of his caliber was crafty and could not be easily intimidated. Vincent didn’t bat an eye. “Try me.”


    Two words, heavy with confidence. One wrong move, and Brendan’s other men’s lives would end here.


    Ashlyn’s face drained of color. The corpse’s vacant eyes burned into her memory, but she clenched her jaw, swallowing her fear.


    Suddenly, the door was kicked down. Jaxen stormed in, a battalion of armed men at his back, guns trained on Brendan. “Surrender,” he snarled, “or none of you walk out alive.”


    The vi was surrounded by Jaxen’s men, yet Brendan didn’t flinch. His men were ready too. It was clear he had a backup n.


    He merely swirled his wine, took a sip, and grinned. “Shoot, and we all die. My men. Yours. Her? Coteral damage.”


    With swift precision, his loyal subordinates responded, their movements a blur as they took their positions and prepared for battle.


    Both parties aimed their guns at each other, their faces set with determination.


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