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.

Ewan’s thumb tapped 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 flinch, head snapping toward the unexpected noise.

That was all the distraction Ewan needed.

In a fluid motion, his hand darted to his waist, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife nestled there. His arm whipped forward, muscles flexing, and the blade spun through the air with deadly precision.

The knife buried itself into the man’s throat with a sickening thunk, before the latter could realise what had happened.

His eyes widened in shock, mouth opening soundlessly as he dropped both weapons, hands clawing at his neck. Blood spilled over his chest, bubbling from his lips as he crumpled to the floor.

Silence fell. Only the sobs of Ciara’s family remained.

Ewan bent, picked 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 burned like fire.

He strode toward the family. "Are you okay?" His voice was softer now, steadier.

He crouched, tugging at the ropes that bound their wrists. The cords came loose, and he tossed them aside. Ciara’s mother clutched her son, tears wetting her face. The father rubbed his wrists, his lips parting as if to speak.

"Follow me," Ewan said firmly, helping them to their feet. Their legs were shaky, their faces pale, but they obeyed. "Keep your questions for later. We need to leave."

He glanced toward the shattered window. Sirens were wailing in the distance, faint but growing louder. The police were coming. And so, no doubt, was the backup for the gang.

He ushered them out into the hallway. Sandro stood there, backing them, gun raised, his head jerking here and there, eyes wide as if expecting shadows to leap out.

Ewan chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "They’re all gone."

Sandro spun at the sound of his voice, weapon still aimed.

"You going to shoot me?" Ewan teased dryly.

Sandro scoffed, lowering the gun to his side. Relief flashed across his face, though he tried to mask it with irritation. "Let’s go. The police will be here any second. Neighbors must have tipped them off."

"Probably," Ewan said, falling into step. He motioned for Ciara’s family to walk ahead, keeping himself at the rear, every sense alert.

As they hurried down the stairs, he asked, "Did we lose any of our men?"

"No," 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 the transport."

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

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

Chapter 413: Being Present

"Your mind 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 her thoughts about the mission she wasn’t present in.

Were her people okay? Were any injured? Especially those that had gone to the gang’s hideout. Were they hurt?

She swallowed, her throat bobbing as she forced her focus back to the present, and picked up her cutlery with slightly trembling fingers.

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

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

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

Do you want to

back, finally meeting his gaze. The cutlery, which had

mean, Antonio? I never said you

and looking aside, his jaw tightening. "You act like I am.

Antonio everything—because then he would understand. But the need not to burden him with problems, the need to obey her grandfather,

food into her mouth thereafter, after a second of

be. You should understand my place in the situation of

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

eyes lowering to her plate.

for her left hand, engulfing her soft hand with his warm, steady one. "Quit worrying too much, Athena. It’s not good for your health. You are a doctor, so you must know this. You

I should be." Easier said than done.

tried to focus on Antonio talking about his day at work, even as she tried to forcefully take spoonfuls of food

they would be going into position in the next five minutes. She had wished him well

yours? What did you do at

nervously, counting herself lucky that

chemicals to the Grey virus compound,

His brows arched slightly, his lips pressing in

then decided to bite the bullet. "Okay, we invaded a certain hideout of

"What!"

seventy percent of whom had just been to the cinema which was

look, whispers starting at nearby

"Antonio, calm down."

calm down? My girlfriend went into

hand leaving hers

never said I did

do you mean by ’we’? Who

lightly. "Members of the state security. They

seeing his reaction. The last thing she needed tonight was to feel

he was okay. Her fingers itched to touch her phone, but she had kept from reaching for it because then Antonio would get curious if she turned away to make

said we... I thought that meant you..." A

glass cup, taking deliberate, careful sips. She cleaned her mouth with a serviette,

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

would have ordered something else if I knew you

falling forward. "Being in the lab had sucked out my appetite

"I see. So,

a sigh, forcing her tone to stay calm. "They reported scenting a certain chemical... I asked them to describe it..."Chapter 414:

414: Being

that she wouldn’t worry much, than in the

did he have for her to

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

them everything was okay. That was apart from those who had approached her after the

this, she was more curious to know his reply, to even know what he was thinking, seeing as

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

than spending hours on

"Sleep? With the unrest plaguing the

at her with furrowed brows, like

maybe when numbers aren’t

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

not a

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

the matter

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

to do here. I’m trying to find out what’s going on. As the business 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 to find out what’s going on if there is a

Antonio murmured, though Athena wondered if he

sighed, reaching for her phone and checking the screen. About nine p.m. She had

me" to

some visitors. It’s

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

she stated, looking up

"Is there a problem?"

have visitors coming, according to Gianna... need

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

second. What did that mean? Was her boyfriend that shallow, to judge people by their

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

a name... you know, for the visitors?" Antonio asked as they walked out of

she didn’t. Says it’s a surprise." She thanked Antonio when he opened the door for her to

you think

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

another message, pulling her

her heart to

home. How could she have forgotten so soon about

lip, her mind racing as Antonio started the car, prepping her tongue on how to break the news which she knew wouldn’t

message from Chelsea. I have to pick her up from a junction, so that we can head home together... her

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

Chapter 415: More Guests

greetings as she entered

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

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

she lifted her hand in a small wave at Aiden as she spotted him talking 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

in there?" She exhaled in relief

she asked, tilting her

above his paygrade, wanting to know

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

is not. He has checked out clean. And that’s apart from the normal

resting her cheek briefly against

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

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

Again with the visitors,

would mean that when Gianna had called, she was already close to

softly under her breath; her friend must have thought she would check the info out, to find out the identity of the visitors, hence

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

cracking across her lips when she saw the visitors, her attention snagged immediately by them because they

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 halfway, engulfing each other in a hug

them dissolving into bouts of laughter as they

alone alerted Athena that the woman must have connected the dots, must have known her true identity—that she was the

to let go even as the seconds

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

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

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

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

I found out, I wanted to come, but

her head, brushing a strand of

wrath." Jessica

the mother of her good friend again, squeezing gently,

struggling to keep a blank face when her gaze landed on who

Antonio.

to call him out harshly for a talk outside—it wouldn’t be a good tip

didn’t know, but she

am comfortable," Jessica answered beside her, unaware of the turmoil Athena was going through, Athena who was quickly

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

wasn’t the odd one out. He was her boyfriend, should be family, but... but she had told him not to come here, to go home! Had she escaped

raised a brow knowingly.

heard Jessica say again, and Athena returned her attention to the latter

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

disengaged

More

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

talk caught everyone’s attention, plunging the room into silence. Heads turned, curiosity sparking,

slightly as she accepted the question, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest while she

date?"

fraction when Kathleen supplied the answer happily, like she had

crease in

sharp gasp broke the

their faces. His reaction caught the attention of the people next

like her friends, just like everyone else. She just didn’t understand how it could have happened, but it did, and it was quite surprising—more so that

Gianna’s was the loudest. She clapped a hand

waving off the apologies coming her way with a calm smile, though her eyes softened

tirade of apologies. "What’s going on?" she asked, voice edged with puzzlement, meeting the gaze of Old Mr. Thorne who,

measured calm, "the woman who raised her

correctly..." Jessica noted with a small smile, nodding slowly before

Jess, why did you make that deduction?" Athena asked with curiosity. "Maybe then these busy people here will have a second chance to make

as she regarded her granddaughter. Athena would not let any

because we had an important client coming that week, hence why I remembered the day," Jessica began, her voice steady, though her hands folded together tightly on her

had also mentioned going to see her friend, Miley... it seems there

a furrow marring her forehead as if another piece of calculation stirred within

quick, subtle, surprised glances with

I called, around noon, she was in the hospital... I knew, even without her telling me, because I could hear the

seeing that she had been pregnant, I did the math in my head, and realized she might actually be ready to give birth, because her voice was heavy, labored."

misty, and then a tear slipped out

fazed by it when she texted me to take over the business for a while... she had taken leave. So, I

hung heavy in

asking after her. I was the one that informed her of my suspicions. I didn’t hear from her again about

gaze on Athena, her expression tender. "So, you see

right—her foster mother had made

glistening. Her attention was then grabbed when Gianna screamed happily and

to plan! I

head quickly, raising a hand. "The party tomorrow is enough publicity. If there will be a birthday celebration, I want it

more public shows. It makes us susceptible to the gang’s

exchanged meaningful glances with Chelsea and Florence before nodding her head, her dramatic pout easing. "Done. But

turned to Areso with a teasing grin. "You better compensate me with a dress from

in mock surrender. "Your wish is

laughter that eased the tension, though Antonio’s laugh came

something I should know?" Jessica asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing playfully as she winked at Athena, then at Antonio, a mischievous smile tugging her

again, heat rising to her cheeks. She had forgotten the poking-nose quality of

her tone hopeful, leaning in as though determined to catch the

meekly, her voice smaller than intended, feeling the heat climb higher.

So, the marriage bells will soon ring..." Jessica rubbed her hands with glee, eyes sparkling, then turned

have always known those two will end up

Chapter 417: Go Home

nudging Sandro softly. Her voice barely carried, but the question hung heavily in the

in the smaller living room—the gang—joined by Antonio, who had stubbornly refused to acknowledge the subtle signals Aiden was giving him

The former was rendered

his combat shorts and a black t-shirt, looking utterly at home in the mansion. Too at home. Antonio

who had refused friendship out of pride and arrogance. The one who was, in his opinion, highly incompetent with work.

now, his tone casual. He wasn’t pleased with Athena frowning at him then, however—or was it confusion flickering past her eyes when

he? He is always around

what to do with this sudden interest. "He is fine," he finally answered

watching quietly. He was no stranger to the budding tension in the room; and as

gaze, but she was rather besotted with her thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall ahead. She must be worrying for Zane,

off to their beds after dinner. There had been

to his granddaughter. Only she had the authority to do that, and

gesture communicating that she felt the

going yet?" Athena spoke then, her voice soft yet loud enough

hold back

head snapped toward her,

"You

Ewan and Sandro. His hand cut through the

the mood for this, but she knew she had to be clear with her boyfriend. "Let’s meet outside... we are making

and started toward the exit without

eyes staring at him, he scoffed under his breath and rose stiffly. None of them

going on, Athena? Why are you always keeping me outside matters like this? Am I not family enough? Why is he in there, and I am out here? Why is he at home with your family?

her boyfriend’s decibels, but she clamped down the irritation and annoyance bubbling within her. Instead, she

his rant tapered off. "Do you have

tensed shoulders deflated

muttered, his voice softer but still bitter. "It’s like you both

her hands briefly before letting them fall.

of silence

waist, resting his forehead against hers. His breath was warm, shaky. "I... I just don’t like seeing