Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours!

Chapter 411: Two Teams IV

Chapter 411: Two Teams IV

Ewan had always wondered if he would be in this position again—before an onslaught of bullets, heart hammering, adrenaline surging—after taking his place in his family’s company.

For years, he had convinced himself that boardroom negotiations, corporate deals, and endless paperwork had replaced the days of ducking fire and leading missions. But some things never left a man.

The thought had haunted him often during quiet nights, the question whispering: what if it happens again? What if you find yourself before the barrel of a gun, and your team isn’t there to cover you? What if you’re alone?

Now, with walls echoing with gunfire and shouts, with plaster chipping above his head from a spray of bullets, that question was no longer hypothetical.

And strangely—he smiled.

Because as soon as the trigger pulled, as soon as danger pressed in on all sides, his body remembered. His training came alive in him like muscle memory. His hands and legs moved as if they had been waiting, itching for this exact moment.

Everything synced: his breath, his eyes, the rhythm of his heart. He moved in one accord, in one flow, like a current of water rushing through cracks in stone.

The first man came from the left, bursting forward, gun raised. Ewan didn’t even blink. His pistol lifted, barked once, and the man crumpled, his weapon clattering against the tiles.

But Ewan didn’t stay in one place, not with the incoming angry men. He darted forward, boots striking hard against the floor, then vaulted onto the wall in a smooth arc. His legs found grip where no normal man should have found footing, and he kicked off, twisting his body midair.

Bullets sprayed beneath him, but his pistol spoke more than twice before he landed, each shot finding its mark in the men below. Four bodies hit the ground, their fighting objects limp by their sides, before he even touched down.

The moment his boots kissed the floor, he was already rolling, already firing backward at the enemies chasing him from behind. His movements were so fluid it almost looked choreographed, like he had rehearsed every step.

He crouched as bullets flew past, firing back, sparks flashing from metal scraping against concrete. He ducked beneath a swinging baton, drove his shoulder into the assailant’s chest, and fired point-blank before the man could even gasp. He didn’t linger, didn’t gloat. Every move was transition into the next, a dancer in a ballet of death.

He pushed deeper into the hallway, every step measured, every breath controlled. Door by door, he moved, shoulder against wood, gun raised. He kicked one open thereafter and froze for a fraction of a second.

Inside were things that made his stomach twist—obscene scenes, naked abused women forced into corners, eyes wide with terror, the criminals using them like shields.

His finger tensed on the trigger, instinct screaming at him to shoot, but discipline held him back. He couldn’t risk hitting innocents.

The nearest thug smirked, thinking Ewan was hesitating in fear. He didn’t realize Ewan was waiting for the perfect moment.

And when it came—when the criminals finally turned their focus away from him for a second, in order to leave the bed to accost him, thereby leaving the women unshielded—Ewan acted immediately. His pistol spat fire, clean and precise. Three shots. Three men down. He lowered his gun slowly, letting the ringing silence fill the room.

The women blinked at him, trembling. One of them whimpered. Ewan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He turned, leaving the door wide open, a silent invitation for them to run. To escape.

But even if they didn’t, the state security service would soon invade the building. Aiden had dropped a tip to them, a late one, intentionally.

Ewan, meanwhile, repeated this through the rooms. Kick. Enter. Judge. Shoot. Leave. Always moving, always flowing. Some rooms stank of smoke and sweat. Others were dens of gambling or drugs. Each time, he found criminals, and each time, he cut them down with the merciless precision of a man trained for this exact nightmare.

Blood pooled on the floorboards, shadows stretched long under the flickering bulbs, and still he pressed forward, one door after another, one body after another.

By the time he reached the stairs to the last floor, his breathing was heavier, but his focus sharper. He climbed step by step, his pistol steady, eyes scanning every corner.

The second floor greeted him with silence—a silence he didn’t trust. He walked slowly, almost crouched, the muzzle of his pistol leading the way. And then...

A figure stood at the end of the corridor, just outside a heavy door. A girl. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, her hair tied back messily, a rifle steady in her hands.

She was pale under the hallway’s dim light, but her eyes were hard, defiant. She raised her gun, and Ewan froze.

Something about her stopped him cold. She reminded him of Heronica. The angle of her chin, the stubborn line of her mouth, even the way her hands shook but held steady anyway.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated.

And that hesitation cost him.

The crack of a gunshot ripped through the corridor, and searing pain tore into his thigh. He groaned, staggering back, hitting the wall with a grunt, settling behind it, just close to the stairs. His pistol nearly slipped from his hand, but he gritted his teeth and held on.

The girl kept shooting, each round tearing into the walls around him. From the sound and rhythm, he knew she was getting closer, step by step.

"Are you scared to fight, old man?" she shouted, voice shaking but loud. "Come out, sot!"

Him? A sot?

Despite the burning pain in his leg, Ewan almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of the absurdity of it—here he was, bleeding, hunted, cornered, and still his pride found the insult ridiculous.

He touched the wound at his thigh, grimacing. The pad he’d worn had taken the worst of it, but blood still seeped through. A surface wound, maybe, but no less painful.

His eyes flicked to his pack. Only one cartridge left.

"One bullet," he muttered under his breath. "Better be worth it."

He inhaled slowly, counting seconds, mind calculating, heart steadying. He needed her to take position—somewhere predictable, somewhere he could end it with precision.

And then he saw it: the broken glass scattered on the floor, catching faint light, reflecting her shadow as she stepped closer. Her boots crunched against it, revealing her exact spot without her realizing.

Perfect.

He steadied his hand, lined up the shot, and fired—not at her chest, not at her head, but at her right leg; mercy prevailing.Chapter 412: Two Teams V

Chapter 412: Two Teams V

Ewan left the bleeding girl where she writhed on the floor, clutching at her wounded leg, her defiance still smoldering in her glare even through the pain. He ignored her spit, ignored her muttered curses, and pressed his ear to the heavy door she had been guarding.

Silence.

He tilted his head, listening harder. No shuffling. No voices. Nothing that betrayed what lay behind the barrier. His jaw tightened. The silence could mean one of two things: the room was empty, or someone inside was waiting—poised, breath held, gun raised.

"Not even going to say anything when your life’s already hanging by a thread?" he muttered, half to the girl.

He turned his head slightly, his voice carrying the sharp edge of a threat. "One word could save you from bleeding out. Say nothing, and maybe I will blow off your other leg."

She glared, lips pressed into a thin line. Not a sound. Not even a flinch.

Loyalty.

Ewan breathed out slowly. Sometimes he hated the word."

He reached up, fingers tugging on the strap of his helmet. It was still snug, but he adjusted anyway, tightening it until it pinched at his jaw. The last thing he needed was a stray bullet glancing off and knocking it loose.

He tested the chin-strap twice, ensuring it was secure, then rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension in his muscles.

With one last breath, he lifted his boot and drove it hard into the door.

The lock splintered, the door swinging open violently, banging against the wall. His pistol was already raised, finger curled on the trigger.

And then—he froze.

A man stood in the middle of the room, gun pressed firmly against the head of a boy no older than twelve—Ciara’s little brother.

eyes were glassy with terror, tears streaking his cheeks, his small chest heaving with shallow breaths. Behind

barrel tighter against the boy’s temple, "and a bullet

Faded

thug. Not even ready.

the shooting started, too desperate to save his

want to do that,"

trembled. "Trust me, it would be my utmost pleasure.

head, gun still trained. "So you think I’ll answer your questions if you

would appreciate that more than their dead

tone was cold. "You mean

at the recognition. "So you found her out, then. Stupid girl who can’t get anything right. She’ll pay for it, don’t worry..." He paused, a cruel light flashing in his eyes. "That’s if you haven’t punished her already for aiding and abetting a crime

into a hard line. He didn’t blink. Didn’t lower his

you want to do this the easy way—or do you

His brow furrowed.

the tremor, the unstable pulse of his hand.

him away now. Ewan thought,

thumb brushed against the cool steel of his pistol, but an idea sparked in his mind. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened

said. His voice softened, dipped into something persuasive. "I’ll make you a

criminal’s eyes

away, lowering it slightly. "You want to know who I am? Fine. But you’ll have to let them live. I’ll even throw my

shaky grin.

inch, making a show of compliance. His heart hammered, but his face betrayed nothing. The

and pointed it

obeyed, rising to his feet, palms

steps forward, eager to claim the discarded weapon. His focus was split—on Ewan,

fast, the small button on the strap at his thigh. A sharp, high-pitched chirp echoed in the room—the alarm for backup. The sound made the man

the

of the knife nestled there. His arm whipped forward, muscles flexing, and the blade spun through

throat with a sickening thunk, before the latter

at his neck. Blood spilled over his

the sobs of Ciara’s

gun, and slid it back into his grip with the familiarity of a man who had done this too many times

"Are you

came loose, and he tossed them aside. Ciara’s mother clutched her

them to their feet. Their legs were shaky, their faces pale, but they obeyed. "Keep your questions for later.

the distance, faint but growing louder. The police

them out into the hallway. Sandro stood there, backing them, gun raised, his head jerking here and there, eyes

a low rumble in his chest. "They’re

at the sound of his voice, weapon

shoot

his face, though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go. The police will be here any second. Neighbors

said, falling into step. He motioned for Ciara’s family to

down the stairs, he asked, "Did

Sandro replied quickly, though his brow furrowed. "But we have a lot of injured. Good thing you insisted on the truck. You really do make plans like your ex-wife—first the helmets and army gear, now

softly, lips quirking. "Like you don’t know what attacking the gang

Zane?" He asked, seconds later.Chapter 413: Being

Chapter 413: Being Present

seems occupied. And you have barely touched your food. Is the food not to your liking?" Antonio’s voice was able to coax Athena from

injured? Especially those that had gone

throat bobbing as she forced her focus back to the present,

pleased if something happened to Zane, unhappier if he got to find out that they had gone on a mission to retrieve Ciara’s parents—she wasn’t sure if

protection mentally, her lips pressing together as she glanced at the

Athena looking at her watch passed the wrong message

you? Do you want to go

which had been dancing aimlessly on

mean, Antonio? I never

slightly away from the table and looking aside, his jaw tightening. "You act like I am. I have been the only one talking, and even then, your attention

she could tell Antonio everything—because then he would understand. But

and scooped food into her mouth thereafter, after a second

solving the recent case ravaging the state, or will soon be. You should understand my place in the situation of things... I have to find the

should think about the positives only. Or did you find something else to prove that they already have a working

her head slowly, her eyes lowering to her plate.

soft hand with his warm, steady one. "Quit worrying too much, Athena. It’s not good for your health. You are a

should be." Easier said than

about his day at work, even as she tried to forcefully take spoonfuls of food so as not to trigger Antonio’s questions again, her mind kept derailing

the next five minutes. She had wished him

do at the lab

lip nervously, counting herself lucky that she had heard her

and subtracting chemicals to the Grey

her. His brows

bite the bullet. "Okay, we invaded a certain hideout of the Demon Vipers

"What!"

percent of whom had just been to the

turned to look, whispers starting at

"Antonio, calm down."

down? How can I calm down? My girlfriend went into a gang’s hideout without letting me

his hand leaving hers to clench

never said

you

lightly. "Members of the state security. They

after seeing his reaction. The last thing she needed tonight was to feel the need to defend her actions, or try to appease

her phone, but she had kept from reaching for

washing over his features. "When you said we... I thought that meant you..." A pause. "So

taking deliberate, careful sips. She cleaned her mouth with a serviette, folding it neatly and placing it beside

actions with a frown, not pleased with the

if I knew you

in the lab had sucked out

nodded slowly. "I see. So, continue

sigh, forcing her tone to stay calm. "They reported scenting a certain chemical... I asked

Being

that she wouldn’t worry much, than in the question she had

canceling out the option of working with a hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb the situation in the country, the panic that had ensued

pick her, mentioning that he wait outside the cinema for her—she had been approached by a couple of her neighbors, a couple of frightened neighbors, who wanted her firsthand comment on the issue, if they had any reason

them everything was okay. That was apart from those who had approached her after the movies... and her boyfriend was telling her not to

to know his reply, to even know what he was thinking, seeing as he

carried an edge of impatience. "What do you think I should do? Go to sleep and hope everything will be

than spending

plaguing the

staring at her with furrowed brows, like he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t getting his

at your workplace, maybe when numbers aren’t adding up, when