Chapter 94

Chapter 94

"More painful?" Jacques sounded like he'd just heard the world's biggest joke. He raised his hand and delivered a vicious slap across Beatrice's face.

The sharp crack echoed through the empty hall. Beatrice's cheek swelled instantly, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth as the blow sent her crashing to the floor.

"I'd love to see who dies first—him or me." Jacques crouched down, gripping her chin roughly and using his thumb to smear away the blood at her lips, his eyes gleaming with lecherous intent.

"I'll say this much—that's one hell of a pretty face. Even if Damien doesn't show, I won't be walking away empty-handed."

"Once those twelve hours are up and he still hasn't come, I'll have my fun first. Let's see what's so special about a woman who caught Damien's eye."

His hand slid down from her neck. A flash of viciousness crossed Beatrice's eyes. She jerked her leg up and drove her foot hard into his abdomen.

Jacques staggered back two steps, instantly enraged. He stepped forward and planted his foot on her wrist, grinding down with all his weight.

Searing pain shot through her wrist. Cold sweat broke out across Beatrice's forehead, her teeth grinding audibly, yet she refused to let out a single whimper. She simply stared up at Jacques with eyes filled with hatred.

"Bitch! Still got some fight in you?" Jacques snarled through clenched teeth, grinding his foot down twice more before finally lifting it. He barked at the two men standing by the door.

"Lock her in the bedroom on the top floor. Two of you watch her around the clock. No food, no water. If she escapes, I'll have your heads!"

The two subordinates immediately rushed forward, grabbing Beatrice on either side and dragging her toward the upper level.

Beatrice was thrown roughly onto the cold floor of the top-floor bedroom. The door slammed shut with a decisive click, locked from the outside. Through the door came the low murmur of the two guards' conversation and the metallic sound of gun bolts being pulled.

She braced herself against her throbbing wrist and slowly sat up, surveying the sealed room.

There was nothing here but a bed, a wardrobe, and a private bathroom. The windows were welded shut with iron bars, dozens of feet above the ground. Jumping would mean death or at minimum shattered legs. There was no possibility of escape.

But she didn't give up. Leaning against the wall, she slowly pulled herself to her feet and walked to the window, carefully observing the defensive positions outside. Then she moved to the door, listening to the sounds beyond it, her mind racing through potential escape plans.

She knew fear and tears would accomplish nothing. The only thing she could do now was stay calm, conserve her strength, and wait for Damien's arrival—wait for the moment Jacques let his guard down, and seize that single opportunity.

Time ticked away second by second. The horizon gradually brightened with the pale light of dawn. Only one hour remained until the appointed time of eight o'clock.

At the Crimson Brotherhood headquarters, all preparations were complete.

Damien had changed into a form-fitting black shirt, the wrapped micro-explosive concealed against his abdomen, the tiny remote control clutched in his left palm where it could be completely hidden.

Liam had already departed ahead of schedule with the elite squad, heading to establish positions around the estate perimeter. All action routes and timing had been confirmed repeatedly.

John watched Damien preparing to leave and stepped forward again, his voice firm: "Mr. Stuart, let me go with you! Bea is my fiancée. I can't let you take this risk alone. I have to help rescue her."

Damien raised his hand and patted John's shoulder lightly, his smoke-blue eyes carrying a note of earnestness: "Mr. Williams, if you go in, you'll only complicate things."

"Jacques wants me alone. Every additional person increases the danger to your fiancée."

"Stay here and coordinate with my men. Make sure their extraction route is secure. That's the best way you can help rescue Beatrice."

John opened his mouth, wanting to argue further, but seeing the non-negotiable look in Damien's eyes, he finally swallowed his words.

He knew Damien was right. He had no combat experience, no weapon. Going in would only make him a liability. He could only clench his fists and nod, his eyes reddening: "Alright. I'll wait here. Just bring Bea back safely."

Damien said nothing more. He turned and walked out of the room, climbing into the car that had been waiting by the door.

The vehicle started smoothly and drove toward the La Villette Estate.

The heavy gates slowly opened. Dozens of armed men stood at the entrance, every gun barrel aimed directly at the car.

Damien pushed open the door and stepped out alone, slowly raising both hands to show he carried no weapons.

Jacques emerged from the crowd, followed by over a hundred men, his face twisted in a cold sneer: "Damien, you actually had the guts to come alone! I thought you'd play the coward and abandon your woman."

Damien's expression remained neutral, his gaze sweeping over the crowd behind Jacques, his tone flat: "Where is she?"

"What's the rush?" Jacques waved his hand dismissively, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "First, let's follow protocol. Search him! Strip everything off him—not even a needle gets through."

Two burly men immediately stepped forward and approached Damien, patting him down thoroughly from head to toe. They removed his phone and car keys from his pockets but failed to discover the explosive concealed against his body or the micro-remote clutched in his left palm.

The searchers shook their heads at Jacques: "Boss, no weapons."

Jacques burst into laughter, walking up to Damien and looking him up and down, his voice dripping with mockery: "Well, well, well! Who would've thought? The great leader of the Crimson Brotherhood turns out to be a lovesick fool!"

"Coming to my territory alone, all for one woman! But it's too late, I'm afraid."

He leaned close to Damien's ear, his voice dropping to a whisper only they could hear, laughing lewdly: "Your woman—I already had my fun with her last night!"

"Not bad at all, though she's got quite the temper. But the feistier they are, the more enjoyable they become."

"Damien, just imagine—when word gets out that you've been cuckolded, who in the entire European underworld will still respect you?"

He expected this to completely enrage Damien. Instead, Damien merely looked at him coldly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a mocking smile: "Is that so? Too bad. Even if she barely knows me, she's still not something trash like you gets to touch. Much less have."

The smile froze on Jacques's face. Fury surged in his eyes. He suddenly whipped out a handgun and pressed it hard against Damien's forehead.

The surrounding men instantly closed in, every gun trained on Damien. The air crystallized, tension reaching a breaking point.

"Damien, you're asking for death!" Jacques snarled through gritted teeth, his finger moving to the trigger. "You're on my turf and you still dare talk to me like that? You think I won't blow your brains out right here and now?"

At that moment, Damien slowly raised his left hand. In his palm was a black micro-remote, held high where everyone could see it clearly.

Jacques's expression froze instantly, his pupils contracting sharply as he stared at the remote in shock. "What the hell is that? Damien, what kind of trick are you trying to pull?"

Damien's lips curved into a faint smile, his smoke-blue eyes filled with madness, though the depths remained cold and dead: "Nothing much."

"There's a high-explosive micro-charge embedded in my wound right now."