?Chapter 889:
Outnumbered six to one, Elena was driven to her absolute limit. The same wrist that Earle had so casually twisted weeks ago took another brutal hit—the bone audibly dislocating with a sickening “crack” that echoed in the tense air. But her face remained an unreadable mask. Not a twitch, not a grimace. Her eyes burned with pure, unadulterated murderous rage. Her physical strength was tapped out, but the sheer force of her fury kept her body moving.
And the more these assassins pressed their attack, the harder Elena retaliated—a whirlwind of brutal efficiency that forced them to stumble backward, again and again. These assassins were stunned. How could she fight like this, like some kind of berserker?
A whole crew of supposed elite assassins getting thrashed around by a single woman—the sheer humiliation of it all must’ve been a bitter pill to swallow.
“Mr. Miller!” one of the wounded assassins yelped, his voice a ragged wheeze escaping past what sounded like a couple of broken ribs. “She’s too damn good! We can’t stop her without firepower!”
Earle’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a disdainful smirk. “A bunch of losers!” The Shadow assassins flinched at the icy contempt in his voice, but none dared to utter a word in response. Gritting their teeth against the pain, they charged at Elena.
Once more. But she was just too fast. Her movements were too precise, each strikending with brutal uracy. They couldn’t anticipate her next move. And every single one of them who managed to get within striking range left themselves battered, bruised, and broken.
Step by bloody step, Elena relentlessly carved a gruesome path straight toward Earle. Her expression was as cold and unyielding as cial ice. But beneath that frozen exterior, her amber eyes zed.
Earle didn’t even twitch. He just tilted his head back, looking up at her. She was a lot more than he’d bargained for. A flicker crossed his eyes. It wasn’t fear but admiration, like he was sizing up a prized fighter. This woman could actually stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
“Well, well, well,” Earle drawled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Real damn good. But…” His eyes glinted with an infuriating self-assurance. “Not nearly good enough to put me in the ground.”
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Right then, as if on cue, a whole row of cannons rumbled into view from behind him. Being Avaloria’s top dog in the arms dealing game had its perks. Of course, his estate would be packing enough firepower to turn a small army into a greasy stain on thendscape.
Earle held out a hand. “You about done with your little tantrum? Because if you are—and you’ve finally run out of steam—why don’t youe back with me?”
Elena’s lips curled back in a snarl of pure disgust. “Done?” she spat, the word dripping with contempt. “With you? Calling you a scumbag is like saying a hurricane’s a light breeze—it’s an insult to those scumbags. You’re a monster, Earle. And the only ce you belong is rotting in the deepest circle of hell.”
And then, without so much as a nce at the cannons that were undoubtedly aimed right at her chest, Elena didn’t hesitate. She just charged straight for Earle.
Lydia, who’d just finished putting down thest assassin around her, turned her head just in time to witness the insane spectacle. Her eyes went wide, and her heart nearly mmed to a stop in her chest. “Elena!”
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