Chapter 219
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219
Finished
A little more time passed, but not only did she not see Wyatt’s car, she noticed the road leading to Riverston Street had been blocked off.
Meanwhile, back at the Powell mansion, the birthday banquet still hadn’t ended. Jackson’s face was flushed with drink, his joy clearly genuine.
Taylor, clinging to Paul’s arm, received a message from Alan.
There had been a car crash on Rainier Arc Street, but the identities of those involved were still unknown.
Taylor asked Paul if he knew anything; she asked several times before Paul finally looked at her. “What?”
Seeing how out of it he looked, Taylor instantly lost all patience. Useless .
At that moment, Jensen, looking sharp in his suit, walked up to Jackson and bent down to whisper something in his ear.
After Jensen finished, Jackson’s gaze darkened; his face showed neither delight nor anger, just a calm remark-“Since it’s already done, take care of that Saunders girl too.”
“Which one from the Saunders family?”
Jackson snapped, “Elsie.”
That idiot gave him a headache–better to deal with her now and be done with it.
Jensen gave a short nod, then turned and left to carry out the order.
“Dad!”
Jensen turned his head and saw Paul rushing over.
Even now, Paul couldn’t calm down. He asked, “Dad, is Wyatt really going to die this time?”
Jensen shot him a glance. “Why are you panicking?”
Paul didn’t dare admit it was because this was the first time he was involved in something that might get someone killed. His conscience and sense of morality were at war.
But if he didn’t kill Wyatt, Wyatt would kill him.
Watt pushed me into this
Jensen’s eyes were full of cold fury. “There’s no way he’s getting out of this.”
Sull uncary, Paul searched for something else to ask “Then what’s grandpa going to do with
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If Wyatt died, Yunice would become a dead piece on the board.
Jensen said, “Your grandfather didn’t say.”
Which meant she was no longer worth considering.
Of course, Jensen never mentioned what he planned to do with Elsie.
Paul inexplicably felt a small wave of relief. Nervously, he stepped aside.
Finished
On Rainier Arc Street, a McMillan TAC–50 sniper rifle was set up by the window of a tall building. Only the black muzzle poked through the gap in the curtains.
The shot hit its target. The black Vertex jolted to the side, but somehow kept moving forward.
Behind the curtain, the man clenched a cigarette between his teeth, sharp eyes narrowing. That car’s bulletproofing is solid .
He looked through the scope again, tracking the Vertex and waiting for his next clean shot.
Inside the Vertex, Jordan wrestled with the steering wheel.
The windshield in front of him already had several impact craters, spiderweb cracks radiating out from each point.
Cars all around were trying to force them in; all he could do was swerve hard enough for the tires to screech sparks against the asphalt.
From Riverston Street’s direction, a black cloud rolled in, blotting out the sun.
Within seconds, raindrops started pelting the windows. Then came the downpour–fierce and
fast .
Jordan flipped on the wipers . They swished back and forth in rhythm, each pass clearing the windshield just long enough for the view to blur again with the next rush of rain.
At the same time , Yunice’s car was also pushing forward along Rainier Arc Street , struggling against the storm …
Owen was also driving , having entered Rainier Arc Street.
He had barely managed to catch up to Elsie and persuade her to come back. But once they got back on the road, there were barricades everywhere ; the only way through was Rainier Arc Street.
The rain was pouring. On the roadside barriers, several vehicles with flashing emergency lights were parked. Ahead, dark clouds pressed low, the heavy rain washed everything into a blur.
Elsie said nervously, “Owen, slow down–visibility’s awful here.”
No sooner had she said it than–bang !
3:09 PM ·
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D
Finished
Normally, a rear–ended car would stop and demand an explanation–but the vehicle in front just kept driving like nothing had happened.
Owen, confused, had no choice but to keep going.
Yunice drove through the rain; someone had just hit her from behind, but she had no time to argue about it.
One hand on the wheel, she kept trying to call Wyatt, but no one picked up.
With no better option, she drove toward where the gunshots had come from earlier, relying purely on instinct.
In the tall building, the voice in the sniper’s earpiece crackled, “Still no hit?”
The man gripping the McMillan replied darkly, “That bastard’s got nine lives. Even the heavens are on his side.”
The rain made shooting much harder.
The voice snapped, “I don’t care; Wyatt must die today!”
“You’re so damn annoying,” the man muttered, yanking out his Bluetooth earpiece and tossing it straight out the window.
He flicked the burnt–out cigarette to the floor, tilted his head back to the scope, and realigned his shot on the target.
Just then, he noticed two more vehicles approaching the sniper zone.
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