He moved into the light, revealing a ck wolf tattoo etched along his neck. Then heughed, a jagged, manic sound that made Hera’s blood run cold. The moment hisughter twisted into bloodlust, radiating off him like heat, she knew.


    He wasn’t just some thug.


    He was an assassin, a professional, and a lethal one. Hired to finish her off.


    Cold sweat gathered at the small of her back. She wasn’t as deeply embedded in the underworld as Luke, but she knew enough to recognize the signs. These weren’t random mercenaries. Assassins like these were sourced from the darkest corners of the ck market, recruited off the dark web, trained killers from every corner of the globe.


    The leader had a Russian ent. The man nking him was ck, another had East Asian features, and the rest were just as varied. Possibly from the same syndicate or sect.


    "Don’t be scared, little one. Come quietly, and we might let you live... for an hour longer," one of the men sneered from behind the leader. His gaze raked over Hera with disgusting hunger. "We’ll have our fun first, of course... kekeke."


    His sickughter grated in the air like nails on ss.


    He didn’t care that Hera was injured, her arm in a cast. In fact, he seemed to revel in her vulnerability. She was beautiful, and to him, and the others, she was nothing more than prey. Easy, helpless, and something to be toyed with before the kill.


    From the twisted glints in their eyes, it was clear they all agreed.


    Xavier’s jaw clenched, rage ring in his chest like wildfire. They were looking at his woman like she was a piece meat. Speaking as if he wasn’t even there. Mocking him and disrespecting him.


    He stepped forward, voice sharp and cold as steel."Say one more word about her..."


    Because to Xavier, this wasn’t just an insult.


    It was a death sentence.


    But no one took Xavier seriously.


    The assassins were clearly ready to strike, their movements loose and confident, like wolves circling a wounded prey. Sensing the tension escting, Hera seized onest chance to stall. Her voice was calm, sharp with intent.


    "Tell us how much they paid you... and we’ll offer ten times that amount."


    She didn’t hesitate. No bluff. No flinch.


    She dropped the bomb without blinking.


    Anyone could double a price to tempt a mercenary, but Hera went straight for the kill. If they were offered a million to eliminate her, she just countered with ten million. That wasn’t just a bribe, it was a challenge.


    Temptation flickered across a few faces. They weren’t worried about being turned in to the police, after all, they were already internationally wanted, with multi-million-dor bounties on their heads. This was just another job to them. One million was barely the floor. If their original pay was ten million?


    Then Hera’s offer would skyrocket it to a hundred million.


    Even Xavier shot her a surprised nce. She made the offer like it was pocket change. Like she already nned for every oue.


    And maybe... she had.


    And sure enough, Hera’s offer hit its mark.


    The assassins froze. Their smug grins, their crude, lecherousughter, it all vanished in an instant. The air shifted. For the first time, they were looking at Hera not as prey, but as a yer at the table.


    Her words had struck a nerve.


    They exchanged nces, silent and calcting. The group they brought wasrge, overkill even, because they’d assumed this hit would be moreplicated than usual. Hera was always surrounded by bodyguards, and she had both Xavier and Alexandre at her side. This wasn’t supposed to be easy, and they knew it.


    And then there was Alexandre.


    A man like that. One with a name and with a powerful family behind him. One they all recognized.


    It would be a lie to say they didn’t know who he was, his reputation preceded him. And they also knew the price of crossing someone like him. If Alexandre got involved, if he was injured, or worse, killed, then the Arnaults would unleash hell.


    Even assassins had a line they didn’t dare cross.


    And suddenly, this mission didn’t seem so clean-cut after all.


    Hera’s offer hung in the air like a b of meat in front of starving wolves, impossible to ignore, and dangerously tempting.


    If they were only offered somewhere between one to ten million for the hit, and with more than a dozen of them in the group, then each man would walk away with less than a million. For assassins of this caliber, that was pocket change. They didn’t move like small-time killers; they were too organized, too confident.


    Hera could easily guess the price on her head was closer to ten or twenty million. And if the person who ordered her death truly wanted her gone, they would likely grit their teeth and pay that sum, no matter how high, just to finish the job.


    There was a code among assassins, ept a mission,plete the mission. It wasn’t just their creed; it was an unspoken rule across the dark web.