Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Terry took a moment to collect himself, swallowing hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the receptionist huddled in the corner, trembling. He lowered his voice urgently.

"Don't just stand there. Get out and close the door behind you."

The receptionist seemed frozen in shock, still curled up against the wall, motionless.

Terry glanced at Nicholas, who stood in the path of the wind, then softened his tone again. "Did you hear me? This doesn't concern you anymore. Go."

Only then did the receptionist manage a sluggish nod. She braced herself against the wall, trying to stand.

"Watch out for the glass on the floor," Terry added.

Like a prisoner granted pardon, the receptionist stumbled to her feet. Her legs were so weak she nearly fell, staggering out of the office in a panic.

The office was left with only the howling wind and rain pouring through the shattered floor-to-ceiling window, sending papers flying in chaotic swirls.

Nicholas stood at the broken window, a deep gash on the back of his hand where flying glass shards had sliced down to the bone. Blood dripped from his fingertips.

He seemed oblivious to the pain as he raised his hand and slapped two crumpled photographs onto the desk.

"Get over here. Look at this."

Terry stepped forward, lowering his gaze to the photos. His eyes widened in shock.

"This... this can't be possible!"

His voice shot up, trembling with rage.

"Has Liam lost his mind?! The Wilson family's four brothers coming back, the island reconstruction—every bit of it funded by The Kennedy Group! How could he do this?"

Terry's fury mounted as he spoke, completely missing the darkening expression on Nicholas's face.

"He took your resources, your trust, and now he has the nerve to stab you in the back and run off with Ms. Russell! He's an ungrateful bastard! No wonder the search teams haven't found any trace of Diana these past few days. This was premeditated all along..."

"Enough. Shut up," Nicholas cut in coldly.

But Terry couldn't stop himself, still going on. "Mr. Kennedy, Liam clearly planned this from the start. From the live stream jump in international waters to having someone waiting to pick her up—it was all orchestrated. Ms. Russell was so desperate to get away from you that she didn't even care about Ms. Garcia's life. She just ran off with another man..."

"Shut up!"

Nicholas finally snapped, roaring the words.

"Are you trying to tell me she went with that man willingly?" Nicholas strode up to Terry, then turned back, pacing in agitation.

"Are you saying that to escape me, she didn't even care about her own mother's life and ran off with some guy she barely knows just to get away from me?"

Terry's breath caught, cold sweat drenching his back in an instant.

He realized he'd stepped into dangerous territory.

Nicholas couldn't accept the possibility that Diana had willingly left with someone else. He especially couldn't stand words like 'run off.'

"I... I didn't mean it that way," Terry corrected himself with difficulty. "Mr. Kennedy, please calm down. Liam must have used some underhanded methods to deceive Ms. Russell."

Nicholas took several ragged breaths before managing to suppress his rage.

"What were you trying to report earlier?"

"Oh, right. I found out the identities of those kidnappers on the cargo ship."

"Get to the point."

"The gunmen who were killed didn't seem unusual at first. But after the medical examiner used a special solution, they found hidden tattoos in the most concealed spot on their lower backs—invisible ink."

Terry quickly pulled out a report and handed it over.

"It's the signature mark of an international assassination organization called The Scavengers. This group operates in extreme secrecy and never leaves witnesses alive."

Nicholas's eyes swept over the tattoo photos in the report, his expression ice-cold.

Terry continued his briefing. "The only problem now is that The Scavengers have a strict internal hierarchy. We still can't confirm whether this was a kill order from the organization's leadership or if someone hired them through the dark web at a premium price, specifically targeting Ms. Russell..."

"If you haven't figured it out yet, keep investigating," Nicholas interrupted impatiently.

"Yes, sir. So what do we do now..."

"The backup helicopter is on the roof, right?"

"On standby."

"Send those coordinates from the photos to the flight crew." Nicholas turned, grabbing his jacket from the chair. "Mobilize thirty of our best security personnel, fully equipped. I want them on the rooftop helipad in three minutes."

Terry's face went pale with alarm.

"Mr. Kennedy, those coordinates are in a neighboring country's southern airspace! We don't have flight clearance. If we cross the border without permission, their air defense systems will lock onto us!"

"Throw money at it. Whatever it costs to buy passage, pay it. If I don't bring her back tonight, none of you need to bother coming to work anymore."

Deep into the night, thousands of miles from Sunrise City, in a coastal town.

Diana lay in bed at the safe house, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The news of Gemma's successful heart match had left her in a state of restless excitement. It wasn't until midnight that drowsiness finally began to creep in.

She had just closed her eyes when a piercing air raid siren suddenly tore through the night sky.

The shrill wail echoed across the entire town. Diana jolted awake, sitting bolt upright.

This place was normally so peaceful—why would the air raid sirens suddenly go off?

The communicator on her bedside table flashed red. Diana grabbed it and answered. The urgent voice of one of Liam's guards came through.

"Ms. Russell! Several unidentified armed helicopters just entered our airspace. They completely ignored the warnings from the town's air traffic control, and they're heading straight for the safe house!"

Diana gripped the communicator tightly, her pupils contracting.

"Nicholas's people?"

"Most likely. You need to get to the underground passage now. We'll provide cover..."

Before he could finish, a burst of intense electronic interference erupted through the communicator, then it cut out completely, leaving only static.

Diana threw off the covers and got out of bed, pulling on her jacket as she walked to the window.

In the darkness, the roar of rotor blades grew louder, so powerful the windowpanes rattled. Four black heavy-duty helicopters circled the safe house like hunting night hawks, surrounding it from all sides.

Suddenly, a deafening boom.

A blinding searchlight beam shot out from the helicopter directly ahead, hitting the exact window where Diana stood with pinpoint precision.

Diana squinted against the harsh light, raising her hand to shield her eyes.

The wind whipped up leaves from the courtyard, slapping them against the glass. The center helicopter slowly descended, hovering less than sixty feet from her window.

As Diana's eyes adjusted to the light, she opened them and peered through the darkness.

The helicopter's side door was wide open. A tall, imposing figure stood silhouetted at the edge of the cabin. The man wore a black tactical jacket, the wind whipping his coat tails violently. A safety harness was clipped around his waist.

That familiar face—one that made her feel like she was suffocating—gradually came into focus at the edge of the harsh light.

All the blood in Diana's body turned to ice in that instant. Her fingers unconsciously dug into the windowsill edge. She even forgot to breathe.

Nicholas? He'd actually found her!

Under the searchlight's glare, Nicholas looked down at the woman standing at the window, her face deathly pale.

Across dozens of feet of distance and over the deafening roar of the rotor blades, he leaned forward slightly, his lips moving slowly and deliberately.

No sound reached her.

But Diana understood with crystal clarity what those precisely formed words said.

'You can't escape.'