With a sharp crack, the bullet pierced through Antonio’s wrist with deadly precision.
A guttural roar escaped his lips as excruciating pain shot through his arm, nearly buckling his knees.
Staggering backward, he barely managed to stay on his feet.
Crimson blood dripped from his fingertips, splattering onto the ground like dark, blooming flowers.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the space as over a dozen mercenaries clad in form-fitting black tactical gear stormed in, their faces grim and unyielding.
Each held their rifles steady, the cold, dark barrels trained unwaveringly on Antonio.
It was clear—one wrong move, and he’d be riddled with bullets in an instant.
Who had gone to such lengths?
A sworn enemy of the Mega family?
Or... Antonio’s face paled as he clutched his bleeding wrist, his dark, venomous gaze locking onto Camilla, who had frozen in place.
The thought barely surfaced before he crushed it in panic.
Antonio had left enough men behind in San Francisco to keep watch over the Luther Family.
If they had made a move, he would have known.
As long as it wasn’t the Luther Family, he still had a chance to turn the tables.
But in the next instant, Antonio’s last shred of hope was utterly shattered.
There, silhouetted against the light in the doorway, strode in the tall, imposing figure of Sinclair.
His strikingly handsome face was icy, his dark, narrowed eyes brimming with an almost tangible bloodlust.
Some men were simply born to command fear.
Their mere presence was enough to chill the soul. Sinclair?!
Wasn’t he on the brink of death?
Antonio stood frozen, his face drained of all color, his mind racing chaotically through the events that had led here.
Had Sinclair’s critical condition been nothing but a trap from the very beginning?!
A bone-deep cold seized Antonio, freezing him to his very core.
In stark contrast to Antonio’s terror, Camilla’s heart warmed the moment Sinclair appeared.
Without hesitation, Sinclair walked straight to Camilla’s side.
The murderous glint in his eyes softened as he gazed down at her.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and rough but tender.
Camilla shook her head and looked up at Sinclair.
"Don’t worry, he couldn’t lay a finger on me."
Though she said that, now that her protector had arrived, a hint of grievance still welled up inside her.
If Antonio had succeeded, she would never have lived to see Sinclair again.
The happiness she had fought for with her life in her past existence had almost slipped through her fingers once more.
At the thought, her nose tingled with unshed tears, and she buried herself in Sinclair’s embrace, clinging to him tightly.
Sinclair felt the faint tremors of the woman in his arms, and fury ignited in his chest, threatening to consume his rationality.
His dark, fathomless eyes locked onto Antonio, radiating a bone-chilling ferocity.
The suffocating pressure of impending death crushed Antonio’s soul, making his legs buckle.
This man was terrifying—if he fell into his hands, death would be the least of his worries.
His gaze darted to the dozen gun barrels trained on him, and he clenched his jaw so hard it ached.
Every person here belonged to Sinclair.
Escape was impossible.
Antonio had to find another way to survive!
"Sinclair," Antonio forced out through gritted teeth, suppressing the fear clawing at his throat.
"Tiffany is still in my hands.
If anything happens to me, she won’t live either."
His shadowed eyes narrowed sharply, desperately concealing the panic lurking in their depths.
"Let me go, and I’ll hand over the person to you."
Sinclair’s dark eyes gleamed with unfathomable intensity.
His voice, icy enough to chill the bone, remained eerily flat, revealing nothing of his true emotions.
Antonio stared at the man’s unreadable expression, and the brief composure he had mustered shattered once more.
His gaze flickered toward Camilla.
"You may not care, but does Camilla feel the same?"
"Of course I care," Antonio’s voice snapped Camilla back to her senses.
She took a deep breath, lifting her head from Sinclair’s embrace to glare at him.
"Otherwise, I wouldn’t have traveled all the way to E Country just to be manipulated by a scumbag like you."
Her clear, piercing eyes radiated bone-deep frost.
Antonio frowned, yet a sliver of relief settled in his chest.
Harsh as her words were, the fact that she cared was a good sign.
"Then tell Sinclair to let me go. Otherwise..."
"Antonio," Camilla interrupted him, her crimson lips curling into a faint smirk.
"You can use that useless lump on your neck to guess—since Sinclair is in Country E, why didn’t he rush to save me right away? Why wait until now?"
Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, each word deliberate.
"What exactly is he waiting for?" Antonio slowly processed Camilla’s words in his mind before his eyes suddenly widened in realization.
His lips trembled as he stared at the two of them.
"You... found Tiffany?"
How was that possible?!
This was Country E—a land of tangled factions and complex power struggles, not San Francisco, where the Luther Family reigned supreme.
Antonio had deliberately hidden Tiffany in a remote, sparsely populated suburb.
There was no way the Luther Family could have located her so quickly!
"Not found," Camilla’s icy voice cut through the air like a blade.
Antonio knew just how much Tiffany meant to Camilla—she would never gamble with her life.
His heart sank deeper and deeper, plunging into utter despair.
"The plan was foolproof... It was so close to success...
This wasn’t supposed to happen..."
His face drained of color, looking as broken as a stray dog with no home to return to.
All traces of his earlier confidence had vanished without a trace.
Camilla gazed at Antonio with a cold sneer, an indescribable sense of satisfaction bubbling within her.
"Sweetheart, go rest in the car for a while," Sinclair murmured tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I’ll handle the rest."
Sinclair didn’t want her eyes lingering on that man any longer, nor did he want her to witness what was about to unfold.
"I’ll stay with you," Camilla shook her head firmly.
"I need to see his downfall with my own eyes—only then can I truly let go of this anger."
Her gaze flickered to the diamond bracelet on her wrist, and a faint, knowing smile curved her lips.
"Besides, I’d like to see the results of our little experiment from the other day."
By now, it should be about time for the effects to kick in.
"Alright," Sinclair relented, recognizing the steel in her voice.
Without further protest, he wrapped an arm around her and guided her to a seat not far from where Antonio stood.