Chapter 146 No Need for Anyone's Protection

Chapter 146 No Need for Anyone's Protection

Half an hour later, the harsh sound of screeching brakes shattered the silence of the western suburbs villa.

Three black SUVs pulled up sharply at the front entrance.

Sean pushed open the car door and strode toward the gate, with Akin and Flynn right behind him, their expressions guarded.

The gate was unlocked. Sean pushed it open, and a thick, metallic smell of blood instantly hit him in the face.

The bulletproof glass in the entryway had obvious impact cracks, and the expensive hardwood floor was covered with messy signs of a fight.

Most striking of all was a dark red bloodstain that dragged all the way from the entryway straight to the entrance of the basement.

Sean's deep black eyes suddenly tightened, and his breathing stopped for a moment.

He was always in control, but right now, looking at that shocking bloodstain, an uncontrollable wave of panic surged up from the bottom of his heart.

"Master Sean!" Akin called out quietly and drew his gun from his waist.

"Go down." Sean's voice was terribly hoarse. He took long strides and rushed toward the basement without hesitation.

The motion-sensor lights in the basement were blindingly bright.

Isabelle was standing at the metal sink, calmly rinsing her hands with cold water.

She wore a black utility vest, her back straight, her expression so cold it was as if nothing had happened.

Behind her, on a metal chair, a male corpse was tightly secured with tactical zip ties.

The man's left arm was twisted at a strange angle, his carotid artery had been cut open by a blade, blood pooled on the floor, and he died horribly.

Akin and Flynn gasped.

They were men who lived on the edge of death, and they could tell at a glance what kind of brutal interrogation this corpse had endured before death. Even more deadly was that throat-slitting cut—clean and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

This was not something a college freshman could pull off.

Sean didn't even glance at the corpse. He walked straight to Isabelle, grabbed her wrist, and anxiously checked her from head to toe.

"Are you hurt?" Sean's voice carried a barely noticeable tremor.

Isabelle pulled her hand back, grabbed a paper towel nearby to dry the water from her fingertips, and said flatly, "I'm not hurt. The blood on the floor is all his."

Sean's tense jawline finally relaxed, and the wildly beating heart in his chest gradually settled back into place.

He took a deep breath and looked at her with heavy eyes.

"This is Washington, after all." Isabelle tossed the paper towel into the trash, looked up at Sean, and explained why she had called him over. "I could kill him, but I couldn't quietly move the body out of the wealthy district. If I alert the federal police, the follow-up investigation will be a huge hassle. So I could only ask you to lend me some people."

Sean listened to her rational, almost cold-blooded analysis, and most of the frustration in his heart dissipated.

When she ran into trouble, the first person she thought of was him. For him, that was more satisfying than any explanation.

"Akin, Flynn." Sean turned his head, his voice returning to its usual cold sharpness. "Clean up the body. Don't leave any traces."

"Yes, Master Sean." The two men immediately stepped forward, skillfully undid the zip ties, and loaded the body into a special body bag.

Sean's gaze swept over the blood on the floor, finally landing on that metal chair.

He knew all too well how brutal this kind of interrogation method was.

"Who was he?" Sean asked quietly.

"An enemy." Isabelle's tone was casual, clearly not wanting to say more.

Sean's eyes narrowed slightly.

An enemy? Someone who could break into this villa with such high-level security was definitely not an ordinary enemy.

"You two go upstairs first." Sean ordered coldly.

Akin and Flynn paused for a moment, immediately hoisted up the body bag, quickly exited the basement, and closed the heavy soundproof door behind them.

Only the two of them were left in the basement. The air was filled with a faint smell of blood and disinfectant.

Sean took a step closer, his tall frame casting Isabelle in shadow.

He looked down at her, his gaze extremely oppressive.

"Isabelle, I want the truth." Sean's voice was low, with an unquestionable strength. "Bypassing the perimeter security, breaking in here with military-grade equipment—this isn't ordinary revenge. Who was he?"

Isabelle leaned against the edge of the sink, arms crossed. She looked into Sean's deep eyes and knew she couldn't hide it from him.

Besides, now that Syndicate's assassin had already come after her, more trouble would only keep coming. Sean, as the head of Everlight, would figure it out sooner or later anyway.

"Syndicate headquarters." Isabelle's red lips parted slightly as she said those four words.

Sean's pupils contracted, shock flashing through his eyes.

"He was following Beria's orders." Isabelle's tone was cold, as if talking about something that had nothing to do with her. "He came to dig into my background. If I didn't cooperate, he was to kill me on the spot."

Beria, one of Syndicate's current top leaders.

Sean's expression darkened completely.

He knew Syndicate's way of doing things well—like a pack of wolves that never let go once they bit down.

If Beria had set his sights on Isabelle, it meant she was now in extreme danger.

He looked at the slender Isabelle before him, his brow furrowed.

"This is more serious than I thought." Sean's voice was cold and hard. "Syndicate's assassins are impossible to guard against. You're too vulnerable here alone. Isabelle, go back to the Heuston family."

Isabelle was slightly taken aback.

The Heuston family—the capital's top century-old aristocratic family, and the true blood relatives of the body's original owner.

Ever since the drama of the real and fake daughters in River City ended, the Heuston family had been secretly searching for her.

"The Heuston family's foundation runs much deeper than what you see." Sean looked at her, his tone showing rational calculation. "They have extremely strong influence in both political and business circles across North America. Belmont Heuston has been looking for you for years. As long as you're willing to go back, the Heuston family will do everything to protect you. Even Syndicate would have to think twice about going after the Heuston family's eldest daughter."

This was the safest way out right now.

She straightened up, her pitch-black eyes showing absolute arrogance and defiance.

"Mr. Morgan, my life has never needed anyone else to protect it." Her tone was flat but resolute. "Whether it's the Heuston family or Everlight, I don't need any protective umbrella. If Syndicate dares to come, I'll kill them one by one."

She was used to dancing on the knife's edge, used to holding life and death in her own hands. Living under someone else's roof, seeking shelter—that was never her style.

Sean looked at her stubborn attitude and sighed inwardly.

He had known this would be her answer all along. This little fox was proud to the bone.

"Fine, I won't force you." Sean gave in. He raised his hand and gently tucked a loose strand of hair by her cheek behind her ear, the gesture natural and intimate.

"But remember this." Sean's gaze was as deep as the ocean, showing undisguised favoritism and confidence. "You don't have to go to the Heuston family, but Everlight's doors are always open to you. If you need anything, come to me anytime."

Isabelle looked at him and didn't refuse this kindness. "Got it."

Sean left with his people.