Chapter 168 You Know
Chapter 168 You Know
Preston's smile froze on his face.
"Sam has a PhD in biochemistry. You must have looked into his background." Penelope tilted her head, her tone casual, like discussing the weather. "High-explosive liquid compound, sealed beneath a semi-permeable membrane at the base. Opening the cap triggers detonation through pressure change. Effective kill radius: fifty feet."
She surveyed the corridor.
"You're less than forty feet from me, Preston."
Preston's expression finally cracked. The man beside him went white, instinctively stepping back.
"You're bluffing." Preston's voice wavered.
"You could take that bet." Penelope's thumb remained perfectly still. "I never bluff in business. I don't do losing deals, but a mutual destruction deal?"
She smiled faintly.
"That I'll do."
Dead silence.
The entire corridor felt muted, only the low hum of the overhead ventilation system remaining.
Dominic stood three steps behind her, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. She negotiated more ruthlessly than he killed.
Preston stared at Penelope for a full ten seconds. His knuckles on the wheelchair armrest alternated between clenching and relaxing. Finally, he slowly raised his right hand.
A gesture.
The armed personnel on both sides retreated five steps like a receding tide. The guns didn't lower, but the infrared laser dots shifted from Penelope's chest to the floor.
"Clear a path," Penelope said.
"Penelope, you don't really think you can walk out of my territory with a tube of explosives, do you?" Preston leaned back against the wheelchair, a twisted smile spreading across his gaunt face.
That smile made Penelope's instincts scream warnings.
"You're too much like your mother." Preston repeated the line.
Penelope's brow twitched.
Preston raised his withered hand and snapped his fingers in the air.
The crisp sound echoed twice down the corridor.
Heavy footsteps came from behind. Two fully armed mercenaries emerged from a hidden door deep in the passage, dragging someone between them.
A woman.
She wore a coarse cloth dress so filthy its original color was indistinguishable. Barefoot, with long hair covering most of her face. Iron shackles on her wrists had worn thick layers of scar tissue into her skin.
The mercenaries threw her to the ground. The woman knelt there, slowly raising her head.
Penelope's hand stopped moving.
It was Jasmine.
Damn it. Preston had somehow managed to abduct Jasmine without any of them noticing.
Jasmine lifted her head, her cracked lips moving.
"Penelope."
The voice was like a rusted needle piercing Penelope's eardrums.
Her right hand gripping the vial began to shake.
Not a slight tremor—a violent, uncontrollable shudder spreading from her fingertips through her entire arm. The pressure of her thumb on the seal visibly loosened.
Preston sat in his wheelchair watching her, an almost benevolent smile spreading across his gaunt face.
"Jasmine's been eating well and sleeping well with me. She just misses you terribly." His tone was leisurely, like making small talk. "Penelope, see those scars on her wrists? All self-inflicted. She tries to get out every day to find you."
Penelope's gaze fell on the layers of scar tissue on Jasmine's wrists. Her throat felt like someone had poured cement down it.
"You're despicable."
"We're already in a fight to the death. Of course I'll use every means available." Preston corrected her, his fingers lightly tapping the wheelchair armrest.
Penelope said nothing.
Preston clearly saw through her mental state. He raised his hand in a minute gesture.
Heavy metallic sounds came from behind.
Penelope turned—twelve assault rifles simultaneously pressed against Dominic's body.
Dominic stood still.
Those crimson eyes didn't look at any of the mercenaries surrounding him. His gaze cut past all the gun barrels and heads, locked dead on Penelope's face.
Not pleading. Not fear.
A warning that said 'don't worry about me.'
"The situation is simple now." Preston's voice remained unhurried. "You let go, the vial drops and explodes, your mother dies, Dominic dies, you die. Nobody here survives."
"But if you hand it over nicely," he spread his arms in an embracing gesture, "family reunion. Everyone's happy."
Penelope stared at him.
Preston smiled again. "Of course, I'll need to take Dominic with me. The blood in his body is very important to me. You should understand an old man's desire to live a few more years."
"Don't even think about it." Dominic's voice came from within the circle of gun barrels, hoarse as broken glass scraped across iron.
A mercenary slammed a rifle butt hard into the wound on his lower back.
Dominic grunted, his knees hitting the concrete floor, but his mouth still twisted in that grin, the mouthful of bloody foam unable to cover that wild defiance. "Preston, if you've got the guts, kill me now. You won't dare, because if I die, the blood's gone, and those rotting organs of yours won't last another month."
Preston's smile froze for an instant before quickly returning to normal.
"Young people have tempers. No matter." He looked at Penelope. "Penelope, I'm giving you ten seconds to think. After ten seconds, if that thing is still in your hand, I'll start by cutting off your mother's hand."
Jasmine let out a weak whimper.
Penelope's pupils contracted.
"One."
Preston began counting.
"Two."
Penelope's gaze swept back and forth between Jasmine and Dominic.
"Three."
Dominic met her eyes, his lips moving silently.
She read his lips—'Don't worry about me.'
"Four."
"Five."