Chapter: 758

"The message from One-Eye pointed to this place. They are useless; they couldn't even handle the people in one private room."

“Maybe there's a trap. He has always been hard to control. He might have wanted to take you out, using this chaos to his advantage. Why don't we head downstairs and stir things up more, provoke the police?"

“Quiet. I've tried to reach him and got no response. He's probably had an accident. Just keep working on that door."

Outside, the murmur of voices suggested a gathering crowd. The two single sofas previously blocking the door proved ineffective; with a few forceful kicks, they began to budge.

Inside, Norah swiftly checked her firearms and called out, "Joanna, Susanna, stay hidden behind something safe. Alice, get ready to fight."

They were clearly outnumbered, and their strategy needed to adapt.

Underestimating their opponents wasn't an option.

Alice, nursing an injured leg, hobbled over and settled into a chair to the left of Norah. Her gaze never left the door, watching every moment for it to burst open.

Behind her, Susanna brushed away her tears. She knew her crying wasn't helping.

Seeing it was difficult for Joanna to maneuver in her wheelchair, Susanna took action, positioning the wheelchair behind a large sofa to use it as a shield.

When the door finally swung wide open, six men appeared, each armed with a gun. They entered the room slowly, with caution. However, upon seeing only four women, they visibly relaxed.

"Boss, it's just four women here. One-Eye and Crew-Cut are dead," one of the men reported back after a quick inspection.

The man in the lead, an imposing, muscular man with a bald head and a menacing dragon tattoo across his chest, surveyed the scene. His eyes, fierce and calculating, missed nothing.

This man was the notorious leader of the Inferno Alliance, a figure far more formidable than either One-Eye or Crew-Cut had been.

In the subdued light of the private room, he glanced at the bodies.

Were they really taken out so easily? Each had been dispatched with a precise shot to the head, the bullet holes starkly visible and leaving no question as to the cause of their demise.

But how could these women be so good at gun shooting?

The gang leader, holding on to outdated stereotypes, struggled to reconcile the scene before him. He viewed women only as traditional caretakers—illiterate, incompetent, and weak-certainly not capable of handling firearms with such deadly efficiency.

“Did you kill them?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the woman nearest to the door. Her features were sharply defined, almost artistically so, making her strikingly beautiful. Her presence seemed at odds with the violent scene around her.

The gang leader questioned whether someone was aiding these women as he pondered over the mysterious demise of his men.

"They are exquisite," a subordinate cooed with a grin. "Why not seize the last few moments to enjoy their company?"

Another man added eagerly, “There are four women in the room, just enough for a little entertainment.”

They had been preoccupied with gun shooting downstairs previously, leaving no room for such diversions.

“I am a member of the famous Andrews family," Joanna declared, emerging from behind the sofa. "I strongly advise against any reckless actions."