Chapter 343: Chapter 343 Dickson’s Crazy Idea

Neither Vanessa nor Kelly flinched at first. Both of them kept their expressions steady, their eyes locked on him.

Vanessa tilted her head faintly. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said coolly. “We came here for business. Nothing more.”

“That’s right,” Kelly added. “If we wanted games, we would’ve gone elsewhere. We want serum supplies. Nothing else.”

The old man chuckled again, his smile now wide enough to reveal the faint lines around his mouth. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasping together as he looked at them closely.

“Let me guess,” he said slowly, savoring every word. “Liam is hiding somewhere nearby. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for me to slip. For me to hand over the location of Crimson Hand.”

At the mention of Liam’s name, both women froze for a fraction of a second. It was subtle—barely a flicker in their eyes, a tightness in their lips—but it was there.

And that was enough.

The old man’s smile deepened into something far more satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and laughed softly, a deep, knowing laugh.

“You see?” he said, pointing a finger at them. “I was right.”

Vanessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. Kelly’s hand flexed faintly at her side.

The old man raised his glass again, taking another slow sip before setting it back down. His voice dropped, calm but sharp. “I have ears everywhere. People talk. Whispers carry. And it wasn’t difficult at all to match your sudden little appearance here with your connection to Liam.”

He tilted his head. “An easy feat, really.”

Vanessa and Kelly kept their composure this time, their faces blank masks. But inside, both knew one thing—this man wasn’t just some druglord connected to the crimson hand. He was something more.

——-

The quiet morning air outside the mansion was anything but peaceful. The sun was up, burning faintly through the mist that still clung to the green fields, yet the silence between Lilith and Dickson was heavy. They stood beside Dickson’s car, watching the heavily guarded property from a distance. The mansion loomed deeper inside the estate, past the iron gates and through a well-kept drive lined with trees. Guards in black suits were scattered everywhere—patrolling, leaning against SUVs, smoking cigarettes while their eyes scanned the area with suspicion.

Lilith narrowed her eyes, her sharp golden strands of hair brushing across her face as the wind shifted. “They’re everywhere,” she muttered.

“I don’t think we can get to that mansion without being seen,” Dickson finally said, shaking his head. His tone carried both frustration and resignation. He leaned back against the hood of his car, letting out a long sigh as though he had already given up.

Lilith didn’t answer right away. Her eyes kept darting across the scene, looking for patterns, openings, or any weakness in their guard rotations. But it didn’t take long for her to see what Dickson already knew. “Why,” she asked quietly, almost to herself.

Dickson turned his head sharply, like he couldn’t believe she had asked that. “Why?” he repeated, his voice rising. He pushed off the hood, waving his hands at the scene in front of them. “Look at them, Lilith! Those guards are crawling all around. Do you not see them? There is no way to get to that mansion without being spotted. None. It’s too deep in.”

He jabbed his finger toward the gate where two guards with rifles stood lazily but alert, occasionally checking in with the others along the perimeter. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Lilith,” Dickson added, his tone sharp and bitter, “I am not some superhuman freak like you people. I can actually die if I get shot. One bullet, and I’m done. That’s it. No regeneration. No teleportation. No ice powers. Just a body bag. And speaking of freaks where the hell is Lana?”

Lilith ignored his last question and shifted her weight, her arms folding across her chest. She didn’t flinch at his words, but she could see the logic in them. Dickson wasn’t wrong. They were cornered by circumstance. If they barged in recklessly and the girls inside were fine, then they’d expose everything. If they stayed put and something was wrong, then they’d lose them without lifting a finger.

Her jaw tightened. The options circled her head like vultures, each one worse than the last. She bit down on her lip, her sharp feline-like eyes never leaving the mansion. She hated this. She hated waiting.

But before she could say anything, Dickson broke the silence again. “What would Liam do if he was here?”

Lilith snapped her head toward him, her glare sharp and unblinking. The mention of Liam’s name dug into her nerves. “If Liam was here,” she replied without hesitation, her voice low and steady, “he wouldn’t waste a single second. He wouldn’t sit here debating. He’d barge in. Danger or not. He wouldn’t care.”

Dickson studied her face. The determination in her tone was clear, but so was the frustration. He could tell she was wrestling with herself, trying to balance caution with impulse. He stepped closer, his expression softening for once. Slowly, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“So what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Go. Barge in. Save them.” His voice carried a mix of encouragement and challenge, like he was daring her to move.

For a brief second, the air between them froze. It was the kind of moment that almost felt heroic, a push at the edge of decision-making.

But Lilith’s reaction shattered it in an instant. Her lips curled as she snapped at him. “How dumb are you?” she spat. Her tone was sharp, laced with irritation. “Do I look like Liam to you? I’m not him. Not even close. I’m not half as strong as he is. You think I can just storm in there and shrug off bullets like it’s nothing?”

Her voice rose, her frustration spilling over. “I’d be ripped apart by gunfire before I even reached the damn door.”

Dickson didn’t flinch under her anger. Instead, a grin spread across his face. Unexpected. Calm. Almost smug. “What if I get you to the door?” he asked.

Lilith blinked, caught off guard by his sudden confidence. She tilted her head slightly, her golden hair shifting with the movement. “What?” she asked flatly.

“I said,” Dickson repeated, his grin widening, “what if I get you to the front of that door? Can you handle the rest?”

Her sharp eyes studied him carefully, trying to figure out if he was serious or just running his mouth. “And how exactly,” she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism, “do you intend to do that? In case you haven’t noticed, the mansion is like forty meters away from that gate. Forty meters. Wide open space. No cover. No distractions. Nothing. And you’re telling me you can get me across it without alerting anyone?”

She gestured toward the guards scattered across the property. “Even at that distance, it’s impossible. They’ll see you before you even take two steps.”

But Dickson didn’t break eye contact. He just smiled, the kind of smile that hinted he had something up his sleeve. Something reckless. Something crazy.

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