Chapter 41 Madman

Arnold's deep, commanding voice echoed through the parking lot. The bodyguards in black suits suddenly realized they were surrounded.

Arnold stepped forward, the light from the parking lot entrance casting a glow on him. Vera was momentarily taken aback.

It wasn't until Arnold reached her, noticed the scratch on her arm, and asked, "Did they hurt you?" that she snapped out of it.

He gently pinched her nose and said, "I told you not to wander off."

"I just wanted to take a walk," Vera mumbled, her gaze dropping to the ground. His mix of scolding and concern pierced through her tough facade, leaving her on the verge of tears.

She kept reminding herself not to fall for this kind of empty affection again.

"Let's head back," Arnold said, noticing the emotions Vera was trying to hide and the coldness in her eyes. It made him uncomfortable. He didn't like this feeling.

As they walked towards the hotel, Arnold suddenly sensed something and grabbed Vera's wrist, pulling her into his arms.

A bullet whizzed by, shattering a nearby car window. Arnold pulled Vera down behind the car, signaling to his men.

A frantic voice shouted from behind, "Arnold! Come out! You think you can run? I've done my homework, you only brought a handful of people! This place is surrounded! Hand over the route! Damn it! You always try to suppress me, come out! Coward!"

Vera recognized the voice after a moment. It was Auburn Wilson, the guy who had discussed business with Arnold earlier. That curly-haired man had seemed so refined, but now he looked like a madman, cursing and shooting at the ceiling.

"Why did he kidnap me?" Vera asked, confused.

"Because he thinks you're my weak spot," Arnold replied.

Vera froze. His weak spot? She thought, 'Me? No way. Arnold and I are from two different worlds. Auburn must be mistaken.' She started to feel uneasy.

Looking at the madman, she couldn't help but comment, "Is he nuts? Just because the deal went south, he has to throw a tantrum like this?"

Arnold found her angry expression cute. He pulled out a small silver pistol from his waist and asked, "Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," Vera nodded, "but I'm not a great shot..."

"My guys will draw their fire. You take the chance to get out," Arnold said, handing her a motorcycle key. "I was planning to take you for a ride tonight."

Vera stared at the key in her hand, stunned. "What about you?"

"You're worried about me?" Arnold asked, his intense gaze on Vera.

"Now's not the time for this," Vera said anxiously.

She thought, 'Seriously? It's so dangerous right now, yet he's still trying to joke around.'

"Do you trust me?" Arnold asked.

Looking into his eyes, Vera found herself nodding without even thinking.

"Then go, and do exactly as I say," he said calmly.

Vera tightened her grip on the key, knowing there was no point in arguing.

Arnold aimed and fired into the distance. The gunshot drew everyone's attention immediately.

"He's over there, get him!"

Arnold watched Vera's figure disappear, his blue eyes turning cold and sharp, the tenderness gone.

"Take them all out, leave no one alive," he ordered, his voice icy.

In the dim parking lot, occasional flashes of gunfire lit up the scene. From the rearview mirror of a car, Arnold could see Auburn, who was wildly shooting at the parked cars.

Bullets occasionally ricocheted off the metal panels. Arnold frowned. Auburn must be high on something.

Arnold's men had already taken care of the ones outside; only a few were left with Auburn. If they waited any longer and Auburn accidentally hit the gas tank of a car, it would be a disaster.

Arnold pulled out his gun, his blue eyes calm and focused, and fired without hesitation. The bullet hit Auburn's knee, making him scream and collapse, clutching his leg.

Arnold stepped out from behind the car, his polished leather shoes pressing down on Auburn's knee with just enough pressure to make him scream louder. The pain cleared Auburn's drug-addled mind.

Auburn looked up and met Arnold's fierce gaze. The stories about Arnold came flooding back. He had been a mercenary in hellish battlefields, leaving no one alive. What was the difference between the demons of hell and Arnold, who had crawled out of a pile of corpses?

His methods were ruthless, like an unfeeling executioner.

Auburn shuddered.

"You shouldn't have messed with my woman," Arnold said softly, a hint of regret in his voice.

He aimed the gun at Auburn.

"No! No! You can't kill me," Auburn pleaded, trembling. "If you kill me, my father won't let you off!"

"That's between me and your father," Arnold chuckled, as if this was just a casual conversation.

"No! Please! I was wrong, I won't do it again," Auburn begged, wetting his pants in fear, the yellow stain spreading on his white trousers.

The smell of urine filled the air.

Arnold frowned in disgust.

But then, the roar of a motorcycle engine echoed through the underground garage!