?Chapter 872:


    Another shot rang out, hitting his left leg, causing him to stagger, but he pushed forward.


    A third shot struck his right leg, slowing him even further.


    Earle reveled in the butler’s agony, prolonging thetter’s suffering for his own cruel amusement.


    The vi was now visible, yet the butler fell at the doorstep, his energy spent.


    A servant, hearing the noise, emerged and screamed at the gruesome sight.


    With thest of his strength, the butler choked out, “Call Mr. Spencer!” The servant, trembling, managed to dial the number, her voice quivering as she said, “There’s a massacre on the ind, please send help…”


    Her plea ended abruptly as a bullet silenced her.


    Earle leaned back, crossing his legs with a smug air. He couldn’t help but think that Wesley certainly knew how to enjoy life.


    After fifteen minutes, the assassins reported back to him. “Mr. Miller, we’ve rounded up the survivors,” they announced, bringing the children before Earle.


    The children stood, terror and loathing evident in their eyes, having just witnessed the murder of their families.


    Earle regarded the children dispassionately,manding, “Take them to the ne.”


    The assassins led the children away.


    On his way out, Earle’s gaze fell on a vase of roses. He stopped, plucked a single rose, and ced it on the table. A glint of anticipation shone in his eyes. He had vowed he and Elena would meet again…


    Felix answered the call with a sharp nod, his features hardening as he pivoted toward Wesley without dy.


    A cold shadow passed over Wesley’s face. He altered course immediately, saying nothing.


    Discover your next read at g?lnσν????s


    Noticing the sudden shift, Elena asked, “What happened?”


    Wesley’s tone cut like frost. “Someone came to the ind to kill.” Elena’s skin drained of color. The ind held only the elderly, women, and children—utterly defenseless. Her eyes hardened. A fire lit behind her eyes, ruthless and unflinching.


    Wesley shoved the throttle forward. “Two guns under the seat—sniper and handgun. Take them.”


    Elena reached beneath her, fingers groping until they closed around the gear. She unzipped the ck case, extracted the parts, and pieced together both weapons with the ease of someone well-trained. By the time the wheels scraped the tarmac, everything was locked and loaded.


    She handed the handgun to Wesley, hoisted the rifle onto her back, and leapt from the ne.


    The moment her boots hit the earth, the reek of blood mmed into her. She froze. Usually, the salt air dominated this stretch ofnd. But now the smell of death was thick enough to smother. Too many had fallen.


    Wesley caught the scent, too.


    Neither spoke—they just took off running, feet pounding toward the vige.


    Even braced for the worst, the sight ahead left their hearts heavy. Bodiesy strewn across the ground. The roads ran slick with crimson streaks.


    .


    .


    .