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.

The boy’s wide eyes were glassy with terror, tears streaking his cheeks, his small chest heaving with shallow breaths. Behind them, Ciara’s parents trembled, both bound, both crying, both whispering prayers that seemed to go unheard.

"Move," the criminal snarled, pressing the barrel tighter against the boy’s temple, "and a bullet goes into his head."

Ewan’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked quickly over the man. It-was-white singlet. Faded blue boxers. Feet bare. His hair was unkempt, sweat beading on his forehead.

Not a good shooter or thug. Not even ready. Ewan concluded.

The latter must have rushed here when the shooting started, too desperate to save his life. He had chosen to make a last stand with the nearest leverage available—innocents.

"You wouldn’t want to do that," Ewan said evenly.

"Oh?" The criminal grinned, though his lips trembled. "Trust me, it would be my utmost pleasure. But I want to know who you are first."

Ewan tilted his head, gun still trained. "So you think I’ll answer your questions if you keep them alive? Trading their lives for information?"

The man nodded, quick, eager. "Exactly. My boss would appreciate that more than their dead bodies. They’re not useful—just pawns to keep spies under control."

"Spies?" Ewan’s tone was cold. "You mean Ciara."

The fellow smirked 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 against the state."

Ewan’s lips pressed into a hard line. He didn’t blink. Didn’t lower his weapon.

to

His brow furrowed. "You cut

the gun. Ewan could see the tremor, the unstable pulse of

to put him away now.

of his pistol, but an idea sparked in his mind. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his grip on the

softened, dipped into something persuasive. "I’ll make you a trade. Information—for their

criminal’s eyes

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

man’s lips curved into a shaky grin. "Now you’re talking.

the floor, inch by inch, making a show of compliance. His heart hammered, but his face betrayed nothing. The gun clinked softly as

criminal said, his grin widening. He shifted his gun from the boy’s head and pointed it squarely at Ewan. "Now stand up. Slowly. Hands where

his feet,

claim the discarded weapon. His focus was split—on Ewan, on the gun he was bending to retrieve, on his own arrogance. And that

at his thigh. A sharp, high-pitched chirp echoed in

was all the

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

the man’s throat with a sickening

his neck. Blood spilled over his chest, bubbling from his lips as

the sobs of Ciara’s

with the familiarity of a man who had done this too many times before. His

strode toward the family. "Are you okay?"

aside. Ciara’s mother

their faces pale, but they obeyed. "Keep your questions for later.

the shattered window. Sirens were wailing in the distance, faint but growing louder. The police were coming. And so,

raised, his head jerking here and there, eyes wide as

in

spun at the sound of

going to shoot

though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go. The police will be here any second. Neighbors must have tipped them

family to walk ahead, keeping himself at the rear, every sense

stairs, he asked,

have a lot of injured. Good thing you insisted on the truck. You really do make plans like your ex-wife—first

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

seconds later.Chapter 413: Being

Chapter 413: Being Present

Is the food not to your liking?" Antonio’s voice was able to

Especially those that had gone to the gang’s

to the present, and picked up her cutlery with

on a mission to retrieve Ciara’s parents—she wasn’t sure if Zane would

protection mentally, her lips pressing together as she glanced at the time on her wristwatch. They should

passed the wrong message to Antonio. He frowned, his brows knitting

Do

gaze. The cutlery, which had been

you mean, Antonio? I never said you were boring

his jaw tightening. "You act like I am. I have been the only

middle of her forehead with the tips of her fingers, wishing she could tell Antonio everything—because then he would understand. But the

on her lower lip and scooped food into her mouth thereafter,

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

It’s possible that you finding out the location had upended their plans. You should think about the positives only. Or did you find something

eyes lowering to her plate. "Just

again, softer this time, and reached across the table for her left hand, engulfing her soft hand with his warm, steady one. "Quit worrying too

I should be." Easier said than done.

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 before

him since the last one where he had informed her they would be going into position in the next five minutes. She had wished him well before returning to her task.

me about yours? What did you do at the lab if

nervously, counting herself lucky

adding and subtracting chemicals to the

look like he believed her. His brows

bit her lips, then decided to bite the bullet. "Okay, we invaded a certain hideout of the Demon Vipers

"What!"

other diners, seventy percent of whom had just been to the cinema which was just close by moments ago, like

look, whispers

"Antonio, calm down."

down? How can I calm down? My girlfriend went

his voice had gone considerably lower now, his hand leaving

said I did

raised a brow sharply. "Then what do you

lightly. "Members of the state security.

teeth, making the drastic decision to keep the matter too from Antonio after seeing his reaction. The last thing she needed tonight was to feel the need to defend her actions, or

itched to touch her phone, but

his features. "When you said we... I thought that meant

She cleaned her mouth with a serviette, folding it neatly and

of actions with a frown, not pleased with the half-eaten food

ordered something else if I knew you didn’t like the

strands of hair falling forward. "Being in the lab had sucked out my appetite without my

see. So,

calm. "They reported scenting a certain chemical... I

Being Present

thoughts away so that she wouldn’t worry much, than in the question she had asked Antonio; however, she was mildly

working with a hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb the situation in the country, the

she had left the lab—because she had stopped him from coming to 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

ten minutes assuring them everything was okay. That was apart from those who had approached her after the movies... and

pondered on this, she was more curious to know his reply, to even

minutes had passed. Her tone was soft, but carried an edge of impatience. "What do you think I should do? Go to sleep and hope everything will

better than spending hours on

the unrest plaguing

nothing, only staring at her with

wrong at your workplace, maybe when numbers aren’t

hand from the top of his head to the base behind, as if

a

sarcastic tilt to ’darling.’ His lips pressed thin, his

He muttered, letting the matter go.

he let her worry over nothing? Business was different from medicine after all. Numbers were different from chemicals. They

depend on me. Don’t you get it? I bear a heavy burden of people’s lives. I’m not complaining... I

murmured, though Athena wondered

reaching for her phone and checking the screen. About nine

phone dinged with a message. She muttered an "excuse me" to Antonio when she saw it was from Gianna,

with some visitors. It’s

to make of the message. But knowing that her friend wouldn’t surprise her with a bad gift released the tension on her shoulders, face, and body, rather making her eager to go

stated, looking up

"Is there a problem?"

head. "I have visitors coming,

phone from the table. "That’s interesting. I would love to see them too... maybe make an acquaintance...

last sentence sort of displaced Athena mentally for a second. What did that mean?

benefit of the doubt.

for the visitors?"

She thanked Antonio when he opened the door for her

who do you think is

lap. "I don’t know really. I haven’t the mind to pick and

pulling her eyes back

her heart to palpitate

How could she have forgotten so soon about

lower lip, her mind racing as Antonio started the car, prepping her tongue on how to break the

her up from a junction, so that

worry. We can pick her

Chapter 415: More Guests

as she entered into

though she wanted them slower—her curiosity wouldn’t pay heed to her mental

she had immediately called Rodney while walking back to the restaurant so that her driver would find it easier to spot her

on the phone near the porch. He caught sight of her, his lips still moving in conversation, and beckoned her over with a hand gesture, his brows raised in

in there?" She exhaled in relief when Aiden nodded,

was that?" she asked, tilting

security... asking questions above his