Chapter 334: Discarded Tool
After hanging up the phone, he looked at Ewan lying on the ground, his breathing growing weaker by the moment, and his head was spinning. Who was that mysterious man? Why did he kill Ewan? What secrets were still hidden between this training camp, the Windsor family, and this Ms. Johnson? And what would happen to him after accidentally stumbling upon all this?
He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think about these things. All he could do was stay here, pray that the paramedics would arrive quickly, and pray that Ewan could hold on.
The sun died, plunging the woods into total darkness. Nothing but Sean's ragged breathing and Ewan's dying gasps in the dead silence. The smell of blood grew thicker in the air.
Meanwhile, Frank Powell, who had just stabbed Ewan, was running on adrenaline as he tore out of the woods behind the training camp, moving fast.
He knew the training camp's terrain like the back of his hand, deliberately choosing remote paths without surveillance cameras. The commotion in the grove had been brief, but there was no guarantee it hadn't attracted attention from others—he had to leave this place as quickly as possible. The muscle lines beneath his black jacket were taut, each stride calculated with precision, showing his exceptional physical conditioning and counter-surveillance skills. His face was still covered by a mask, revealing only a pair of sharp, hawk-like eyes that now flickered with barely perceptible anxiety and determination.
Just as Frank was racing toward his hidden vehicle at nearly insane speed, several miles away, in an unremarkable black sedan, one of Charles's top operatives—nicknamed "Hawkeye"—Dominic, was staring intently at a moving red dot on his dashboard screen.
His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel as he spoke calmly into his earpiece: "Target has left the training camp area, currently fleeing west along the perimeter road. Black Volkswagen, license plate confirmed—it's the car Frank usually uses."
"Stay close but don't spook him yet. Mr. Windsor wants him alive," came Nathan's cold voice through the earpiece.
"Roger that." Dominic responded, lightly pressing the accelerator as his black sedan gave chase. He was one of Charles's elite operatives specializing in tracking and operations, experienced and psychologically tough—he could maintain absolute composure even in the most tense situations.
Frank quickly reached the black Volkswagen hidden at the base of the mountain.
He yanked open the car door and practically threw himself inside, rapidly starting the engine. The tires shrieked against the ground as the car peeled out, spraying gravel everywhere. He watched the rearview mirror vigilantly, and only when he confirmed no one was immediately pursuing did he relax slightly—though his heart was still pounding. The scene of killing Ewan had been clean and efficient, but the look in Ewan's dying eyes still haunted him. He wasn't an emotionless machine; years of professional work had simply taught him to suppress his feelings.
The vehicle entered the winding mountain road—remote, with sparse traffic, perfect for escape.
Frank drove with one hand while reaching for his phone to report the mission's completion to Kismet. His finger had just touched the screen, but before he could dial, he suddenly felt the steering wheel jerk violently, and the car began swaying uncontrollably from side to side!
"What the hell?" Frank's face changed as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands, trying to steady the vehicle. He slammed on the brakes, but the brake pedal felt like stepping on cotton—completely unresponsive!
"Damn it!" Frank cursed under his breath, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead. He tried the handbrake—it was useless too. The car was like a wild horse, careening dangerously along the narrow mountain road. Being Kismet's most capable operative, his reactions were lightning-fast. After the initial panic, he immediately realized—someone had tampered with his car!
Who? Charles's people? Impossible, he'd left them behind. Could it be...
A chilling name surfaced in his mind—Kismet!
The thought made him ice-cold. Why?
He'd done so much for her, stained his hands with blood, never complained, even harbored a sick devotion and loyalty toward her. Why would she do this to him? Was it because of Ewan? He'd killed Ewan on her orders! Did she think he'd betray her because of Ewan's death? Or was Ewan's death itself designed to make him the scapegoat before being silenced?
Just then, Frank received a text message from Kismet. It was brief: "Safe travels."
Frank's vision went red—pure rage mixed with despair.
It really was Kismet!
In recent missions, Kismet's attitude had indeed shown subtle changes—more distance, more suspicion. He'd thought he was being paranoid, but now he realized it had all been premeditated! He was just a knife in her hand—once dull or no longer useful, she could discard him without mercy!
"Kismet, you fucking bitch!" Frank's voice was hoarse, filled with endless sorrow and hatred. He'd given her everything—his youth, his conscience, the blood on his hands, even risking enmity with the Windsor family—only to end up like this. He hated her heartlessness, hated his own stupidity, and even more, he hated that even now, that sick devotion and obsession he felt for her hadn't completely died. That love had seeped into his very bones; even after such treatment, he couldn't easily let it go.
Just as Frank was reeling emotionally and his car was about to crash into the mountain wall, he caught sight of a black sedan closing in fast through his rearview mirror—Charles's people! They'd caught up!
In his despair, a mad thought took root in Frank's mind. He couldn't die like this, unclear and forgotten! Kismet wanted him dead, but he'd make his death count! Since she wanted it to look like an accident, he'd give her a "spectacular" accident!
He looked ahead—at the end of the mountain road loomed a steep cliff! Nothing but black emptiness below.
"Charles, you want to catch me? Then let's all go to hell together!" Frank's eyes flashed with crazed determination as he yanked the steering wheel while flooring the accelerator! The already out-of-control black Volkswagen roared deafeningly under his final manipulation, abandoning any attempt to avoid the mountain wall and instead charging viciously toward Dominic's pursuing vehicle!