Chapter 48: Chapter 48 Liam’s Fury

Liam’s eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, he was unsure if he was awake or still lost in the darkness of unconsciousness. His head throbbed, his body ached from the relentless beating he had taken, but as his vision adjusted, he quickly realized he was still in the same place. The basement. The dim, flickering light above cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the damp, stale air still filled his lungs.

But something was different.

The room was silent. Too silent.

Liam’s eyes darted around, scanning the room carefully. The Boss was gone. They had left him here, bound to the chair, probably thinking he was too beaten and broken to be a threat anymore.

Fools.

Liam exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching behind his back. They had underestimated him, and that was their first mistake. He had been aggravating the Boss for a reason, not just because he enjoyed being a smartass but because he had noticed something earlier—whoever had tied him up hadn’t done a good job. The ropes were tight, yes, but they weren’t secure enough. There had been just the slightest amount of slack, and with enough force, he knew he could loosen them.

But there had been no way to do it without making noise.

So, while the Boss had been wailing on him, Liam had been working the knots little by little, using every impact to shift his arms subtly, loosening the restraints. The entire time he had been making sarcastic remarks and taking punches, he had been planning his escape.

And now, all he needed was one good pull.

Liam inhaled sharply, bracing himself before yanking his arms forward with all the strength he had left. The rough fibers of the rope burned against his skin, but then—snap. His right wrist came free. He wasted no time, immediately using his newly freed hand to untangle the remaining knots until both arms were loose. He shook out his wrists, feeling the dull sting of circulation returning to them, and allowed himself the briefest moment of satisfaction.

He was free.

But before he could even stand up, the sound of a door creaking open above caught his attention.

Footsteps.

Liam’s instincts kicked in, and without hesitation, he quickly snapped his arms behind his back again, slumping forward just enough to make it look like he was still unconscious. His breathing slowed, his body went limp, and he cracked his eyelids open just enough to see who was coming.

The steps descended slowly, cautiously, and then he saw him.

It wasn’t the Boss. It wasn’t Khan either.

This was someone else.

A man Liam had never seen before entered the basement, dressed in dark clothes with a cold, unreadable expression. In his hands, he held a gun, and as he reached the bottom of the steps, he began methodically loading it. The soft click of each bullet sliding into place echoed in the small room.

Liam’s mind worked quickly.

This guy wasn’t here to interrogate him.

He was here to kill him.

The man finished loading the pistol, and with a smooth motion, he disabled the safety, his hand steady as he raised the barrel directly at Liam’s head.

This was it.

Now.

The instant the man moved to pull the trigger, Liam’s hands shot out from behind him like a spring. In one swift motion, he lunged forward, twisting the man’s wrist at an unnatural angle. The gun jerked away just before it could fire, and the would-be assassin’s eyes widened in surprise. But Liam didn’t give him time to react.

Using every ounce of strength left in his battered body, Liam twisted the gun completely from the man’s grasp, spun it in his hands, and without hesitation—BAM.

A single gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed basement.

The man’s body jerked as a small hole appeared in the center of his forehead. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking in shock, as if his brain hadn’t even registered that he was dead. Then his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a dull, lifeless thud.

Silence followed.

Liam didn’t waste time staring. He stepped over the body, shoving the warm pistol into the waistband of his pants, his fingers steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His heart was pounding, but his mind was focused. He had no idea how long he had before someone came to check on the gunshot, so he needed to move.

Now.

He turned toward the stairs, taking them two at a time despite the pain in his ribs. At the top, he hesitated only briefly before slowly pushing open the basement door just enough to peek through.

What he saw made him frown.

The hallway beyond was long and narrow, lined with multiple doors on either side. The lighting was dim, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. It looked… abandoned. Or at the very least, neglected.

Liam furrowed his brows, murmuring under his breath, “Who the hell builds a basement in the middle of a hallway?”

But there was no time to question it now.

Taking a deep breath, Liam adjusted his grip on the gun as he pushed the basement door handle. He twisted it gently, opening it just enough to slip through before shutting it behind him. Without hesitation, he turned the lock.

If the man who had come earlier was sent to kill him, then that meant no one was expecting him to still be alive. That also meant that the gunshot wouldn’t have alarmed anyone—whoever gave the kill order knew what was happening and likely wouldn’t be checking in. Still, Liam wasn’t about to take any risks.

He stood there for a few seconds, perfectly still, listening.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No hurried voices. No one rushing to see what had happened.

Satisfied that he was in the clear, Liam turned and began walking down the dimly lit hallway. The floor was made of polished wood, and the walls were lined with doors—each one identical, with no sign of where they led. It was a strange place, almost as if he had stepped into a different world compared to the dark, cold basement below.

He reached the nearest door and paused, pressing his ear against it.

Music.

Not just any music—loud, bass-heavy beats that vibrated through the door. As he examined it more closely, he realized the door wasn’t even fully closed. A small gap allowed flashes of multi-colored lights to spill into the hallway. It was a party.

Liam’s brows furrowed.

A party… in the middle of a place like this?

He didn’t have time to think about it. He nudged the door open and slipped inside.

The moment he stepped in, he froze.

What he saw made his blood boil.

Compared to the party that he expected a young woman lay sprawled on a plush couch, her movements weak, her resistance sluggish. A middle-aged man loomed over her, his hands fumbling with his belt as he muttered, “Open your fucking legs.”

The girl’s voice was slurred, but the anger in her tone was still clear. “Leave me alone, you old mongrel.”

Her hands pushed weakly at him, but it was obvious—she had no strength left.

The music drowned out any sound Liam had made when entering. The man had no idea he was there.

Liam clenched his fists.

His vision blurred with rage, and suddenly, his body moved on its own.

In one fluid motion, he launched forward, his leg snapping upward like a whip. His foot connected with the man’s head, and the impact was brutal.

CRACK!

The man’s body twisted violently as he was launched off the couch. He crashed onto the floor, skidding across the room before lying still.

The girl scrambled backward on the couch, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Her wide eyes darted between Liam and the unconscious man.

She didn’t trust him.

Liam could see it in her face.

To her, he was just another man who had walked into this room. Maybe she thought he had simply beaten the old man so he could take her for himself.

Liam didn’t try to explain himself. He didn’t have time for that.

Instead, he walked over to where the man’s clothes lay in a heap. He quickly patted through them, searching for a phone. Nothing.

Figures.

They probably weren’t allowed to bring their phones in.

As he let out a frustrated sigh, his hand brushed against his own pocket—and then he felt it.

His phone.

His eyes widened slightly.

They forgot to take my phone?

That was unexpected, but right now, he wasn’t going to question his luck.

He pulled it out and immediately tossed it to the girl.

“Call 911. Now,” he ordered.

The girl blinked a few times, staring at the phone in disbelief, as if she wasn’t sure whether to trust this sudden turn of events.

Liam didn’t wait for her response. He turned and strode toward the door.

Behind him, the girl swallowed hard, her shaky hands clutching the phone as she quickly dialed 911.

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