Chapter 103 Shoot Your Ex
Olivia's POV:
The barrel of the gun pressed against the back of Blake's head, making his entire body go rigid. I watched his shoulders stiffen, a visible shudder running through him.
Rain pounded against the armored SUV, creating a chaotic percussion that matched my racing heartbeat. The interior smelled of expensive leather, gunpowder, and fear. My fear. Blake's fear. The only person who seemed utterly calm was Ethan.
"Heh," Blake raised his hands in surrender, forcing a cocky smile despite the gun at his head. "Uncle, let's talk this through, okay? No need for guns. If it goes off accidentally, I don't care if I die, but it'd be a shame to get blood on Liv."
Ethan struck Blake's head with the gun handle, his voice steady and ice-cold. "You should call her Aunt."
Blake's mouth snapped shut.
I remained frozen, haven't spoken a single word since being shoved into the vehicle. Partly from shock, partly to make myself invisible. Trapped between these two psychotic relatives in the same car, I didn't dare utter a sound, terrified of accidentally triggering either of these predators.
But the more I tried to disappear, the more Ethan seemed determined to drag me into their conflict. His long fingers brushed aside his black suit jacket as he leaned close to me, his deep voice resonating against my ear.
"Olivia, do you think Blake should call you his aunt?" The coldness in his voice contradicted the intimate gesture.
A vein throbbed at Blake's temple as he struggled to control his anger. After a moment, he forced another smile and countered, "Liv is your only woman. Before her, you had zero experience. So how could you tell the difference between—"
The gun barrel pressed harder against Blake's skull, Ethan's knuckles whitening as his finger tightened on the trigger.
Outside, gunfire continued. Inside, the tension was suffocating.
Ethan's jawline hardened, his face turning frighteningly cold.
Blake smirked challengingly. "What's the rush, Uncle? Don't tell me you have a virgin complex?"
"Blake!" I shouted, my entire body trembling with anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Blake gave me a lopsided grin. "Don't be angry, Liv. I'm doing this for you. If my uncle really is that kind of man, he doesn't deserve you." He turned back to Ethan. "I'm different. I don't care who you've been with. Even if you'd had a child with someone else, I'd still love you just the same, cherish you like the treasure you are!"
Listening to Blake's words—seemingly passionate but laced with barbs meant to provoke Ethan—made my head throb with anger.
Suddenly, Ethan grabbed my right hand and placed his gun in it, forcing my slender fingers around the trigger. He leaned down, his lips almost brushing mine in what could have looked like an intimate gesture, but his voice remained cold as ice.
"Shoot him."
My face drained of all color as my entire body began to shake. The gun felt impossibly heavy in my hand.
I shifted the barrel slightly and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The shot hit Blake's shoulder. Blood immediately soaked through his shirt, filling the car with the metallic scent of fresh blood.
"Ahhh!" I screamed, then fell silent, staring blankly ahead as tears slid down my cheeks.
Ethan kissed away my tears, tilted my chin up with the gun barrel, and smiled approvingly. "Good girl."
I went limp in his arms, not crying, not speaking, like a lifeless doll.
Blake clutched his bleeding shoulder, gritting through pain. "Ethan, if you're man enough, shoot me yourself. Using Liv's hand to pull the trigger—what kind of man does that make you?"
After cursing, Blake's expression shifted to a mocking sneer. "Then again, Uncle isn't much of a man at all, is he? Can't even get it up without pills. What kind of man is that? If you ask me, you should let Liv go. Don't make her suffer with you."
Just as Blake finished speaking, there was another crash outside—one of our escort vehicles colliding with a Unimog trying to ram our Maybach.
The G-Wagen protecting the Maybach temporarily pulled away, and another instantly took its place in the protective formation. Eight armored G-Wagens had been secretly protecting us, along with military personnel sent by General Amstel.
Ethan sat perfectly still in the Maybach's back seat, not even blinking at the chaos outside.
I watched the scene unfolding around us—like something from a Hollywood action movie—and felt strangely calm. I even thought that dying like this might be a relief. I was exhausted from being trapped between these two psychopaths, being fought over like a toy.
Ethan caught the look in my eyes, the fleeting suicidal thought. His throat visibly constricted, Adam's apple bobbing sharply as if an invisible hand had squeezed his heart. His eyes darkened, the menace around him intensifying.
His phoenix eyes lowered as he forcibly suppressed the rage in his throat. He wrapped his suit jacket tightly around me, the arm around my waist tightening possessively, as if holding me this way would ensure I'd never leave him.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Blake stopped talking, probably because the gunshot wound was too painful for him to continue his battle with Ethan. And Ethan was naturally cold and taciturn—if others didn't speak, he would never waste words on meaningless conversation.
We arrived at the Villa hotel by the Chao Phraya River without further incident. The car stopped at the entrance.
Ethan got out first, then turned to lift me into his arms. His cold voice instructed Harry: "Tie him up and take him to the basement."
Eight G-Wagens pulled up outside the villa, and sixteen muscular security men stepped out.
A bodyguard pointed at Blake. "Secure him and take him to the basement."
Blake shouted at Ethan's retreating back. "Uncle, I bet you won't kill me! Because you're not hard enough! Not tough enough!"
Ethan tightened his jaw and carried me into the villa without pausing, without giving Blake even a glance.
The villa's living room was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an elegant garden with exotic flowers. A pavilion for outdoor coffee draped with purple flowering vines stood amid the greenery.
Ethan carried me to the sofa by the window, leaning down until his forehead touched mine. His breath was scorching against my face, his voice husky and dark.
"Olivia Reed, give me a child. I want it now."
I slowly raised my head, staring at him with shocked disbelief. After a long moment, I found my voice, hoarse and broken. "Ethan, have you lost your mind?"
Ethan's eyes flashed dangerously. His brow furrowed as if bearing the weight of a snowstorm. His jawline tensed, his large hands digging into my waist as they tightened their grip. His voice was sharp as a blade.
"I'm only asking once. Will you or won't you?"