Chapter 93: Chapter 93 1 Of 4

Liam entered the basement, his steps light and calculated. The air was thick with the pungent scent of chemicals and powder. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the scene before him. The first thing he noticed was a group of women being forced to weigh and package cocaine. Their faces were hollow, their eyes filled with fear and exhaustion. Some had bruises on their arms, evidence of rough handling.

Then, his eyes locked onto Amanda. She stood rigid, her defiant posture setting her apart from the others. One of the men overseeing the operation barked at her, demanding that she continue working. When she hesitated, a loud slap echoed through the basement. Amanda staggered back, her hand flying to her reddened cheek.

Liam watched without a flicker of emotion. In his eyes, Amanda was being foolish. She was surrounded by armed men in a drug lab, refusing to cooperate was as good as signing her own death warrant. At least she wasn’t thrown into a brothel like he had first assumed. This was still bad, but it could have been worse. When the sting of the slap settled in, Amanda seemed to realize the gravity of her situation. Swallowing her pride, she began to do as she was told.

A sudden shift in the air made Liam tense. weeks of death experiences honed his instincts, and danger prickled at his senses. Without hesitation, he ducked low and rolled to the side. A gunshot rang out, the bullet missing him by inches and embedding itself into a wooden crate. The deafening crack of gunfire shattered the eerie quiet of the basement.

“Shit,” Liam muttered under his breath as he crouched behind a sturdy metal table, his cover momentarily secure.

Shouts erupted as the workers scrambled in panic. The cartel enforcers instantly reached for their weapons, scanning the room for the intruder. Two men stormed in from the entrance Liam had used, they had just seen their three dead comrades so they followed him here. One of them was responsible for the shot, he had hoped to kill Liam with one shot when he saw him croching behind crates

The second of the newcomers raised his rifle and unleashed a hail of gunfire in Liam’s direction.

BRA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA!

Bullets pelted the metal table, sparks flying with each impact. The rattling shots rang in his ears, but he kept his head down. The moment their clips ran dry, Liam exploded into motion. He vaulted over the table, his movements fluid.

As he sailed through the air, he drew both his pistols and fired in quick succession. The first two bullets found their mark in the two men by the entrance, striking one in the throat and the other in the forehead. They crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

But there were still at least seven more gunmen. The remaining enforcers reacted swiftly, ducking behind metal tables stacked with cocaine. Their reflexes were sharp—these weren’t amateurs. Liam’s next shots missed their vital targets, only managing to clip one in the shoulder.

Chaos erupted. The women screamed and scattered, diving behind crates and tables, desperately trying to avoid the crossfire. The air filled with the acrid scent of gunpowder as the cartel members took cover, their guns ready to fire at the first sign of movement.

Liam landed in a crouch, his fingers tightening around his pistols. His heartbeat was steady, his breath controlled. He was outnumbered, but he had the advantage of speed and precision.

The fight was just beginning.

Liam quickly dove behind a metal table as bullets rained down over him. He grinned under the relentless attack, his heart pounding with adrenaline. This was it. This was what he lived for—the thrill, the rush, the sheer excitement of battle. Breathing in deeply, he steadied himself. He could feel his pulse racing, his muscles tensed and ready. The chaos of gunfire and shouting only heightened his focus.

With a smirk, he tucked his pistols back into their holsters. If these were his own, he would have dropped them and immediately switched weapons, gaining aura points in the process. But these belonged to Lilith. He wasn’t stupid enough to lose her guns—she’d skin him alive if he didn’t return them.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed the AR-15 rifle strapped to his back. The moment he stood, more bullets whizzed past, but none of them found their mark. He had something these idiots didn’t—accuracy, speed, and intelligence. He raised his rifle, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. Unlike them, he didn’t miss.

The first man in his sight barely had time to react before seven bullets tore through his skull. His face was unrecognizable by the time his body hit the floor. The man Liam had previously shot in the shoulder gasped, his eyes going wide in horror as he saw his comrade drop. His gaze flicked downward for a moment, and Liam noticed a dark stain spreading across the man’s pants.

Did he just piss himself? Liam furrowed his brows in disgust but didn’t let it slow him down. He turned his rifle on the rest of the men and let loose.

The room erupted into chaos as his bullets found their targets. Some of the gangsters ducked behind metal tables covered in cocaine, desperately trying to avoid the storm of lead. Others scrambled for cover, but Liam wasn’t about to let them regroup. He stepped onto the table he had been using for cover, gaining the high ground. His movements were swift and calculated, his shots precise.

Each pull of the trigger sent another man to the ground. The gunfire was deafening, the smell of gunpowder thick in the air. Blood splattered across the concrete floor, mixing with the spilled cocaine. The gangsters returned fire, but their shots were erratic, panicked. Liam was a force of nature, and they were nothing but prey caught in his storm.

Then—click.

The AR-15 went silent. The magazine was empty.

Liam heard laughter from the remaining gangsters. They had been waiting for this moment, knowing that eventually, he would run out of bullets. Slowly, they began to rise from their hiding spots, their guns aimed at him.

Big mistake.

A grin spread across Liam’s face beneath his mask. “Got you,” he muttered.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he reached behind his back and pulled out an M4, already locked and loaded. Before the gangsters could even process what was happening, Liam opened fire.

The room was filled with the thunderous roar of gunfire as the M4 unleashed its deadly payload. The gangsters didn’t stand a chance. One by one, they fell, their bodies crumpling to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.

Liam barely broke a sweat. As the last man dropped, he surveyed the carnage. The once-active drug lab was now a war zone, littered with bodies and bullet casings. The tables of cocaine were ruined, stained red with blood.

With a sneer, Liam lowered his weapon. He had come prepared. Maybe even too prepared.

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