?Chapter 311:


    Earle watched her daring escape with an unexpectedly amused smirk. “Go down and find her. Alive or dead, bring her to me,” hemanded firmly.


    Suddenly, the aircraft on his right took a hit and descended abruptly in a fiery crash.


    The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and smoke, marking the chaos of the unfolding aerial battle.


    “Boss, Lydia’s still breathing!” The man’s voice was barely above a whisper as he emerged from the debris of the recent shelling, shock evident in his tone.


    The members of Shadow harbored a deep-seated dread of Lydia.


    Amid their brutal internal conflicts, where only the fiercest prevailed, Lydia was undisputedly the toughest of them all.


    Earle, his expression unreadable, lifted his gaze and cast a casual nce at the man.


    His lips curled into a sly smile that didn’t quite reach his cold eyes, freezing the man in his tracks, his throat too tight to utter another word.


    With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Earlemanded, “What are you so scared of? Go down there and drag her out, dead or alive.”


    As his grin widened, a ripple of fear spread through his subordinates.


    His voice dripped with malice as he added mockingly, “And if you can’t find her, consider yourself crocodile bait. Might as well jump in their pen.”


    His words were casual, but the deadly seriousness behind them was palpable.


    Everyone knew the grim fate of those who crossed Earle; more than one had been torn asunder by the jaws of his pet crocodiles.


    Those unfortunate enough to survive the initial snap suffered a gruesome fate, watching in horror as they were slowly dismembered—a punishment both cruel and excruciating.


    The elite assassins were locked in, every fiber of their being attuned to danger.


    Tucking the mini-grenade away, Lydia moved swiftly, disappearing into a better position.


    After leaping daringly from the helicopter, she executed her escape n with precision, targeting a dense tree to cushion hernding and evade a perilous plunge to death.


    Feel inspired by ga  ln o vels .


    As she descended, branches wed at her face, leaving thin, stinging scratches, and her arm twisted at an unnatural angle, the joint painfully dislocated.


    Even as she sprinted through the underbrush, her left hand hung limply by her side, a dead weight.


    Seeking refuge, Lydia spotted a narrow crevice wedged between two massive rocks. She pressed her back against the cool, rough surface of the stone, her breathing reduced to a shallow, nearly imperceptible rhythm. She became one with the shadows, her presence as elusive as a wisp of smoke.


    In the heart-pounding freefall, she managed to clutch onto a sniper rifle and a mini-grenade—nothing more.


    Two nes were reduced to wreckage, but three more still loomed overhead.


    Lydia knew all too well that Earle, relentless in his pursuit, would never allow her to slip away.


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