Silently thanking the waiter and knowing he was going to tip him massively after that, he placed his leg in front of the waiter, and down went the waiter, the tray and the glasses of champagne. Mark Darius had to smile at his cunny and how fast his mind had seized the opportunity. It was a beautiful moment. He had positioned himself in such a way that the contents of the glass didn't touch him, but they drenched a laughing Karen instead, drenching her completely, from her hair to the upper part of her gown. At first, she was too shocked to speak. He stared at her now destroyed makeup, then tried his best to withhold the laughter that was threatening to escape the confinement of his throat. When the waiter stood up and began to apologize, her voice seemed to come back to her all of a sudden. As she screamed at the top of her voice, Mark Darius found himself chiding his subconscious. And to think that he had been in love with such a person. To think that he had even thought of

Finding strength, he touched Markov lightly on the arm, then he touched his right ear. There were whispers coming from below the stairs, down the part that was round. It was the final lap of the staircase, the lap that led to the ground floor. Placing his finger over his lips, Sergei told his junior soldier using the sign language to prompt him that he should go down. Together, the soldiers went down, their rifles at the ready. The first three men that came running up the stairs were no different from the ones that had come up to the window. They ran aimlessly, not noticing the two soldiers that were lying down at the top of the stairs, who were ready to shoot at the slightest convenience. By the time they saw the soldiers, it was too late. Sergei caught the first one perfectly where he wanted it, in between the eyes, his second headshot of the day. Markov fired repeatedly, spreading bullets as the other two men jerked unconsciously and spiraled down the staircase. Pressing

Karen Shapiro stared at the men that were in her sitting room. Out of the dozen men that had been sent over to Mark Darius's house to participate in the ambush, only five had returned. Five men! How was that possible? How had a plan that she had crafted so well, so beautifully become loose? Who had exposed her plans? Someone had destroyed her plans, and she was going to find out who it was. She stared at Scar, whose face fell. At that moment, she knew he was disappointed with himself. He wasn't used to being defeated, and she could see that the display of remorse on his face was actually real. He wasn't pretending, and yes, he probably wasn't the mole. He was cleared off her suspect's list. “Scar! Do you care to explain this? Are you going to tell me how a dozen men who I sent over to the Darius residence for an ambush are returning with only five men? How is this even possible?” When he didn't speak immediately, she snatched a gun from an armed man and brandished it at h

When Brown Darius woke up, he was blinded momentarily by the bright rays of the sun that had managed to enter the room despite the edges of the shutters trying in vain to restrict it from doing so. He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them, squinting before opening them fully. The air stank of antiseptic and bleach, and he inhaled, wondering where he was for a moment. Where was he? When he turned and found out that he could barely move, everything that had happened to him in the past few hours seemed to return to him in waves. The breakout. The race against time and for his life. Almost getting crushed by a train. Being knocked out by a man he didn't know. He shivered in fear even though it was vaguely warm, for he had just escaped the clutches of death. For him to be in the room and on the hospital bed where he was, alive, was a very big miracle. Worst of all, he knew that he didn't even deserve to be alive. That was how bad it seemed to be. He had committed so many h

Karen Shapiro lit a cigarette, then took a deep drag. She billowed smoke into the air, then tapped her chest. God, she had needed that. Cigarettes helped with her anxiety and her apprehension. And most times, she didn't carry them around, but she always kept at least a pack or two at home. They came in handy. Just like they were coming in handy at the moment. She wished that it was already three days time. In three days was when the Israeli mercenaries were going to arrive. In three days was when she was going to attack Mark Darius in a way that he was never going to expect. In three days, she was going to go level on points with him. She took another drag from her cigarette, savouring the menthol flavor. It tasted good, it made the cold that seemed to plague the city nonexistent. She made a mental note to buy another pack and replace it for urgent times like these. She could only imagine what she could do with the men her Israeli friends would send. They were going to be wa