Chapter 1730


    The tension was palpable as all eyes and weapons turned towards Sean and Steward, vengeful rage


    seething on behalf of Rain.


    The building, an unfinished concrete skeleton without doors or windows, provided the perfect ambush


    point. Sean''s crew, hidden outside, sprang to life, their gunfire tearing through the silence. One by one,


    the viins dropped like flies, smoke filling the air. Standing amidst the chaos, Sean exuded an aura of


    icy grief.


    His sister.


    That quirky little girl who meant the world to him gone because of these monsters!


    "Sean, there''s more noise upstairs - probably their aplices. I''ll take some men and handle it. You


    head to the car. The explosives are set; once we''re out, this ce will blow."


    "No one gets a free pass today," Sean''s voice wasced with a bloodthirsty resolve. "Whatever they did


    to my sister, I want them to pay back a hundredfold, a thousandfold."


    "Understood!" Steward had never seen Sean like this before.


    Always cocky and arrogant, Sean was now enveloped in sorrow and rage.


    "I''m going to find her."


    Even if she was dead, disfigured, limbs severed, he would gather every piece of her and bring her


    home.


    On the eighteenth floor.


    Martha''s men exchanged nces, plotting to shoot Arabe in the chaos.


    But Arabe was no ordinary woman. Sensing the danger, she kicked a chair towards them with


    lightning speed.


    The bullets only shattered the chair mid-air, and before the pieces hit the ground, Arabe had already


    sent another chair flying towards them, knocking several heads with a thud. In a swift motion, she


    kicked again, seizing their guns and gaining the upper hand.


    The room erupted in chaos, the sounds of gunshots, breaking objects, and thugs copsing filled the


    air.


    Serena couldn''t see clearly from where she was hiding, her view obstructed, leaving her only with the


    sight of Horace pummeling Martha.


    "Stop. That''s enough." she murmured anxiously, not daring to raise her voice.


    Even after days confined at home, she feared the walls had ears, that servants might overhear her.


    Seizing a moment, Martha threw a handful of powder at Horace, who quickly shielded his face and


    staggered back. Martha pulled a gun from beneath a fallen wooden table and fired several shots in


    Horace''s direction.


    Horace moved extremely fast, dodging the bullets with ease.


    Wiping blood from her lip, Martha aimed the gun at Horace and questioned, "How did you get free?"


    The knots binding them were Doom''s signature, impossible to escape without a de.


    Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    Horace smirked, revealing a hidden razor de sewn into the hem of his shirt. "Not that it matters now,


    but we''ve got des sewn into our clothes. With a thread, we were free."


    Not just him, but Arabe had several des hidden too.


    Whether their hands were bound in front or behind, they could effortlessly ess the des and slice


    through the ropes.


    Arabe hade up with this trick years ago. The stitching was inconspicuous, undetectable without


    close inspection, especially in the thick fabric of winter clothing.


    And it wasn''t just des – the button on his cuff hid a lifesaving pill crafted by Arabe. To an onlooker,


    it seemed he''d simply rolled his sleeve forfort, but only he knew its true potential, a secret weapon


    that could turn the tide when it mattered most.