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.

"I think that’s for us to decide," he replied quietly. "Now tell me, do you want to do this the easy way—or do you want to lose a leg like your comrade outside?"

For a moment, the criminal’s bravado cracked. His brow furrowed. "You cut off her leg?"

The man’s grip tightened on the gun. Ewan could see the tremor, the unstable pulse of his hand. The wrong word, the wrong twitch, and the little boy would be gone.

I have to put him away now. Ewan thought, jaw clenched.

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

"Wait," he said. His voice softened, dipped into something persuasive. "I’ll make you a trade. Information—for their lives."

The criminal’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ewan tilted the pistol 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 gun down."

The man’s lips curved into a shaky grin. "Now you’re talking. Drop it. Slowly."

Ewan nodded, keeping his movements smooth, deliberate. He crouched, lowering his pistol to the floor, inch by inch, making a show of compliance. His heart hammered, but his face betrayed nothing. The gun clinked softly as it touched the ground.

"Good," the 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 I can see them."

Ewan obeyed, rising to his feet, palms open, expression calm.

The criminal took steps forward, eager to claim the discarded weapon. His focus was split—on Ewan, on the gun he was bending to retrieve, on his own arrogance. And that was enough.

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

was all the

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

man’s throat with a

weapons, hands clawing at his neck. Blood spilled over his chest, bubbling from his lips as he crumpled to

Only the sobs of

up his gun, and slid it back into his grip with the familiarity of a man who had done this too many times before. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, though inside, the adrenaline still

"Are you okay?" His voice

ropes that bound their wrists. The cords came loose, and he tossed them aside. Ciara’s mother clutched her son, tears wetting her face.

them to their feet. Their legs were shaky, their faces pale,

glanced toward the shattered window. Sirens were wailing in the distance, faint but growing louder.

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

low rumble in

at the sound of his voice, weapon

to shoot me?" Ewan teased

gun to his side. Relief flashed across his face, though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go. The police will be

Ciara’s family to walk ahead,

they hurried down the stairs, he asked,

you insisted on the truck. You really do make plans like

snorted softly, lips quirking. "Like you don’t know

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

Chapter 413: Being Present

food not to your liking?" Antonio’s voice was able to coax Athena from her thoughts about

people okay? Were any injured? Especially those that had gone to the gang’s

as she forced her focus back to the present, and picked up her cutlery with

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

as she glanced at the time on

looking at her watch passed the wrong message to Antonio. He frowned, his

boring you? Do you want to

had been dancing aimlessly on

you mean, Antonio? I never said you were boring

from the table and looking aside, his jaw tightening. "You act like I am. I have been the only one talking,

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

lip and scooped food into her

will soon be. You should understand my place in

there isn’t any yet. 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 else to prove that they already have a working drug with them to release

eyes lowering to her

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

Easier said than done.

did so, even as she tried to focus on Antonio talking about his day at work, even as she tried to forcefully take spoonfuls of food so as not to trigger Antonio’s questions again,

would be going into position in the next five minutes. She had wished him well before returning to her task. But now, she was wondering why she hadn’t called him. If

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

lower lip nervously, counting herself lucky that she had heard

subtracting chemicals to the Grey virus

her. His brows arched slightly, his lips pressing in a

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

"What!"

seventy percent of whom had just been to the

few turned to look, whispers starting at

"Antonio, calm down."

down? How can I calm down? My girlfriend went into a gang’s hideout

now, his hand leaving hers to clench into a

never said I

a brow sharply. "Then what do you mean by ’we’? Who

shrugged lightly. "Members of the state

lied through her teeth, making the drastic decision to keep the matter too from Antonio after seeing his reaction. The last thing she

fingers itched to touch her phone, but she had kept from reaching for it because then Antonio would

Antonio exhaled, relief washing over his features. "When you said we... I thought that meant you..." A pause. "So continue your

with a

watched this series of actions with a frown, not pleased

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

the lab had sucked out my appetite without my knowledge... you know,

see. So,

forcing her tone to stay calm. "They reported scenting a

Being Present

pushing her thoughts away so that she wouldn’t worry much, than in the question she

hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb

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

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

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

sure two minutes had passed. Her tone was soft, but carried an edge of impatience. "What do

better than spending hours on wrong

mild irritation. "Sleep? With the unrest plaguing the state? Is that

nothing, only staring at her with furrowed brows, like he couldn’t understand why she

you sleep, Antonio, when something is going wrong at your workplace, maybe when numbers aren’t adding up, when your sales aren’t going the way

swallowed and ran his hand from the top of his head to the base

a rhetorical question,

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

out what’s happening." He muttered, letting the matter

worry over nothing? Business was different from medicine after all. Numbers

somehow depends on your intelligence, on your ability to spot the wrongs and right it, so do the lives of people depend on me. Don’t you get it? I bear a heavy burden of people’s lives. I’m not complaining... I love helping—but it also puts on me the need

murmured, though Athena wondered if he

sighed, reaching for her phone and checking the screen. About nine

muttered an "excuse me" to Antonio when she saw it was from Gianna, and picked

coming home with some visitors. It’s

But knowing that her friend wouldn’t surprise her with a bad gift released the tension on her shoulders,

she stated, looking up

"Is there a problem?"

"I have visitors coming, according to

interesting. I would love to see them too... maybe make an acquaintance... no one that

Athena mentally for a second. What did that mean? Was her boyfriend that shallow, to judge

he was already calling for the server, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was misinterpreting it. Maybe the statement wasn’t as deep as it

you know, for the visitors?" Antonio asked as

Antonio when he opened the door for her to slide into

do you

really. I haven’t the mind to

with another message, pulling

The message read, causing her heart

couldn’t take her home. How could she have forgotten so soon

as Antonio started the car, prepping her tongue on how to break the news

pick her up from a junction, so that we can head home together...

dimples appearing faintly. "Oh, don’t worry. We can pick her up. That’s not a

Chapter 415: More Guests

and gave greetings as

of the car Rodney had driven, her steps hurried even though she wanted them slower—her curiosity wouldn’t pay heed to her mental instructions. Her heels clicked softly against the polished tiles, and

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

porch. He caught sight of

mouthing, "Everyone is in there?" She exhaled in relief when Aiden nodded, just

was that?" she asked, tilting her

security... asking questions above his paygrade,

her chest. "Do you think that he is working with the

that’s apart from the normal one. I did another the president wasn’t aware of. He

smiled faintly, hugging him by the side and resting her cheek briefly against his shoulder. "How did the mission

face then was enough to make Athena wince, her heart dropping to

his shoulders slumping. "I think we should go inside. There’s a lot to talk

Again with the visitors,

slowly. It would mean that when Gianna had

her breath; her friend must have thought she would check the

Aiden out of the porch and into the larger living room, the faint

when she saw the visitors, her attention snagged immediately by them because they were

her designer friend got up from her seat, mirroring the same expression. They

eh?" Areso whispered in her ears, both of them dissolving into

was Areso’s mother, Jessica, who already had tears streaming down her eyes. The sight alone alerted Athena that the woman must

muttered, her voice trembling as she hugged Athena tightly, not ready to let go even

and over, even though Athena whispered back, telling her not to

her cheeks, yet the crying episode was far from over. "Maybe if I had told your grandmother about the pregnancy, about my latter suspicions of when Emily had

shook her head firmly, taking Jessica’s hands. "It’s okay, Aunt Jess. There was no way you would have known how

tears just wouldn’t stop streaming, even with Athena wiping them off her cheeks intermittently, her thumbs soft

out, I wanted to come, but I was scared you might be

brushing a strand of hair from Jessica’s

your wrath." Jessica sniffed, managing a weak smile through the tears. "I am pleased

good friend again, squeezing gently, seeing in her more than just a mother but a

Aunt Jess... Hope you are comfortable..." She continued, turning aside to look for her grandmother, only to stop short, struggling to keep a blank

Antonio.

and she instinctively stepped back, resisting the urge to call him out harshly for a talk outside—it wouldn’t be a good tip to Ewan, whom she could see had his

was pretense or not, she didn’t know, but she was suddenly uncomfortable, her

the turmoil Athena was going through, Athena who was quickly scanning the

gang, with her friends and children. Antonio was the odd one

boyfriend, should be family, but... but she had told

her grandmother, who raised a brow knowingly. Of course the woman had detected the one-second

and Athena returned her attention to the latter with a quick smile. "I’m glad. Please,

face with kisses, their little arms wrapping around her neck. She laughed

your day?" she asked her little ones when they disengaged

416: More

talk had been made amongst them. "Make a wild guess, putting together all the facts that you

talk caught everyone’s attention, plunging the room into silence. Heads turned, curiosity sparking, and all eyes landed on