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.

the strap at his thigh. A sharp, high-pitched chirp echoed in the room—the alarm for backup. The sound made the man flinch, head snapping toward the

all the

fluid motion, his hand darted to his waist, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife nestled there. His arm whipped forward, muscles

man’s throat with a sickening thunk, before the

at his neck. Blood spilled over his chest, bubbling from

fell. Only the sobs of Ciara’s family

man who had done this too many times before. His chest rose and fell with steady

toward the family. "Are you okay?" His voice

bound their wrists. The cords came loose, and he tossed them aside. Ciara’s

were shaky, their faces pale, but they obeyed. "Keep your questions

growing louder. The police were coming. And so, no doubt,

his head jerking here and there,

rumble in his chest.

of his voice, weapon

shoot

lowering the gun to his side. Relief flashed across his face, though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go.

motioned for Ciara’s family to walk ahead, keeping himself at the rear, every

down the stairs, he asked, "Did we

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

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

Zane?" He asked, seconds

Chapter 413: Being Present

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

her people okay? Were any injured? Especially those that had gone to the

back to the present, and

find out that they had gone on a mission to retrieve Ciara’s parents—she wasn’t sure if Zane would be

lips pressing together as she glanced at the time on her wristwatch. They should be rounding up the

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

you? Do you want to

his gaze. The cutlery, which had been dancing aimlessly on her plate, stilled in her

Antonio? I never said you were boring

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

could tell Antonio everything—because then he would understand. But the need not to burden him with problems,

sucked on her lower lip and scooped food into her mouth thereafter, after a second of

Antonio. I’m just occupied with 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 cure

upended their plans. You should think about the positives only. Or

slowly, her eyes

one. "Quit worrying

Easier said than done.

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, her mind kept derailing before she could help it—toward

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

yours? What did you do at the lab if

lip nervously, counting herself lucky that

adding and subtracting chemicals to

he believed her. His brows arched slightly,

lips, then decided to bite the bullet. "Okay,

"What!"

the attention of the other diners, seventy percent of whom had just been

few turned to look, whispers

"Antonio, calm down."

down? My girlfriend went into a gang’s hideout without letting me

had gone considerably lower now, his hand leaving hers to clench

said

you

shrugged lightly. "Members of the

his reaction. The last thing she needed tonight

to touch her phone, but she had kept from reaching for it because then Antonio would get curious if she turned

said we...

cleaned her mouth with a serviette, folding it neatly

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

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

falling forward. "Being in the lab had sucked

"I see.

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

Being Present

away so that she wouldn’t worry

the option of working with a hunch, what alternative did he have for her to curb the

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

was okay. That was apart from those who

reply, to even know

carried an edge of impatience. "What do you think I should do? Go to

better than spending

sound carried mild irritation. "Sleep? With the unrest plaguing the state?

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

something is going wrong at your workplace, maybe when numbers aren’t adding up, when

ran his hand from the top of his head to the base behind, as if trying to straighten the mass of hair

not a

frowned then, detecting the sarcastic tilt to ’darling.’ His lips pressed

He muttered, letting the matter go. He was at fault for rousing

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

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 to find out what’s going on if there is a probability

Athena wondered if he really

sighed, reaching for her phone and checking the

phone dinged with a message. She muttered an "excuse me" to Antonio when

some visitors. It’s a

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

she stated, looking up

"Is there a problem?"

head. "I have visitors coming, according to Gianna... need to welcome

to see them too... maybe

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

the doubt. Maybe she

you know, for the visitors?" Antonio asked as

thanked Antonio when he

do you think

"I don’t know really. I haven’t the mind to pick and cross out options," she answered when

message, pulling her eyes back to it.

her

home. How could she have forgotten so soon about the recap that would take

racing as Antonio started the car, prepping her tongue on how

from Chelsea. I have to pick her up from a junction, so that we

faintly. "Oh, don’t worry.

Chapter 415: More Guests

gave greetings as she entered

she stepped out 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 she clutched her bag a little tighter, breath shallow with

restaurant so that her driver would find it easier to spot her in the

He caught sight of her, his lips

is in there?" She exhaled in relief when Aiden nodded, just before ending the

was that?" she asked,

above his paygrade, wanting

her chest. "Do you think that

is not. He has checked out clean. And that’s apart from the normal one. I did another the president wasn’t aware of. He checked

hugging him by the side and resting her cheek briefly against

feelings that overtook Aiden’s face then was enough to make Athena wince, her heart dropping to her stomach. She

"I think we should go inside. There’s a lot to talk about, that’s after

Again with the visitors,

It would mean that when Gianna

thought she would check the

piqued, she followed Aiden out of the porch and into the larger living room, the faint scent

cracking across her lips when she saw the visitors, her attention snagged immediately by them because they were occupying the central sofa facing the entrance directly: it was Areso and her

called, her voice breaking with joy, hands opening wide, smiling with all teeth in display as her designer friend got up from her seat, mirroring the same expression. They met

both of them dissolving into bouts

had tears streaming down her eyes. The sight alone alerted Athena that the

go even as the

over, even though Athena whispered back, telling

from over. "Maybe if I had told

firmly, taking Jessica’s hands. "It’s okay, Aunt Jess. There was no way you

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

wanted to come, but I was scared

chuckled softly, shaking her head, brushing a strand of hair from Jessica’s

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

warmly and hugged the mother of her good friend again, squeezing gently, seeing in her more than just a mother but a good

are comfortable..." She continued, turning aside to look for her grandmother, only to stop short, struggling to keep a blank face when her gaze landed on who was sitting with Nathaniel on a

Antonio.

instinctively stepped back, resisting the urge to call him out harshly for a talk outside—it wouldn’t be

know, but she was suddenly uncomfortable, her

her, unaware of the turmoil Athena was going through, Athena who

her friends and children. Antonio was the odd one

the odd one out. He was her boyfriend, should be family, but... but she had told him not to come here, to go

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

heard Jessica say again, and Athena returned her attention to the latter with a quick smile.

knees to hug her children who peppered her face with kisses, their little arms wrapping around her neck. She laughed through the affection, willfully keeping her eyes from straying again in

they disengaged from the hug,

416: More

is Athena’s birthday?" Sandro asked, after many a small talk had been made amongst them. "Make a

room into silence. Heads turned, curiosity sparking, and all eyes landed on