?Chapter 452:


    Her eyes narrowed into slits, her hand stealthily slipping into her bag to sp a sharp knife.


    As she scrutinized the encroaching men, her expression darkened. Then, sensing something off, she slightly rxed her grip. They weren’t Earle’s men. Earle’s men were elite assassins from Shadow, their gazes icy, viewing human lives as mere trifles, utterly disposable.


    In contrast, these men, although burly, had eyes thatcked the lethal sharpness of seasoned killers. It was evident they hadn’t truly been tested by blood and death.


    Elena’s voice was calm, yet edged with steel. “Who’s behind this?”


    The leader remained silent, merely flicking his hand as a signal for the others tomence their attack.


    Meanwhile, not too far from the unfolding scene, Felix lingered behind Wesley. With a note of urgency, he asked, “Mr. Spencer, shouldn’t we intervene to assist Miss Harper?”


    Wesley stood unmoved, hands sped behind his back, his gaze piercing into the distance. “She doesn’t need our help,” he stated tly.


    Felix bit his lip, puzzled. Despite Wesley’s apparent fondness for Elena, he chose to remain a bystander at such a critical moment.


    It baffled Felix why Wesley would forsake such a prime opportunity to step in, especially when help seemed so crucial. Twelve men converged on a lone woman—regardless of Elena’s prowess, she was outmatched.


    Felix exhaled quietly, his thoughts burdened with concerns for Wesley’s prospects for wooing Elena. In the quaint norms of his vige, Wesley’s method was unlikely to charm anyone.


    Suddenly, Felix’s eyes widened in astonishment at Elena’s fluid movements. Wow, that was spectacr!


    The leader clenched his fist and aimed a punch at Elena’s face. Yet, with graceful precision, she grasped his wrist, twisted it brutally, and then nimbly sidestepped and hurled him over her shoulder.


    With a heavy thud, the leader hit the ground, his cries slicing through the air.


    Seeing their leader down, the rest of the group hastily picked up iron rods.


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    Elena struck swiftly, her foot snapping one man’s wrist. The sickening snap echoed as the rod ttered to the ground. She had deftly managed this with a single hand.


    Merely three minutester, a group of men in ck suits were sprawled across the pavement.


    The leader, shocked by her formidable resistance, drew a gun in desperation.


    “Stay right there! Move an inch, and I’ll pull the trigger!” he threatened.


    Elena remained unppable in the face of danger.


    As she confronted the gun with calm resolve, the leader’s resolve faltered, his teeth clenched in fury, ready to pull the trigger—only to find the gun expertly clutched by her. He tried to pull the trigger but failed.


    Elena swiftly pressed her index finger against the mechanism, ejecting the magazine in an instant.


    A flicker of fear crossed the leader’s eyes. Who was this expert? She had effortlessly removed the magazine with nothing but her hands.


    Realizing he was outmatched, the leader turned and scampered away, his pride tarnished.


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