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CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE. THE UNSEEN ARSENAL.

The menacing rumble of the bikes closed in, signaling that the time for talk was over. Oliver’s heart pounded as he braced himself for whatever was coming next, hoping against hope that Simon’s backup would arrive in time.

The guy had barely finished his statement when three roaring motorbikes and a battered mini car screeched to a halt in front of them.

The bikes, ridden by men wearing dark, intimidating gear, skidded to a dramatic stop, their engines growling aggressively. The mini car, old but rugged, parked with a commanding flair, its tires kicking up dust as it came to a sudden stop.

The men got off from their bikes flaunting heavy sticks and iron bars, while the people in the mini car stepped out, with chains. They moved smoothly and with a threatening air, each step showing they meant business.

The men gave a ghetto salute, nodding respectfully and addressing the guy with deference. “Boss, what’s the play?”

The guy, now basking in his newfound power, pointed directly at Olive
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