Teor’s eyes twitched; for a fleeting moment, he wanted to drag Felicia back and teach her a lesson. So, she’d drawn out their negotiation, reached an agreement, only to betray him? Thinking it over, it became clear. The Special Operations Unit’s timely arrival could only mean Felicia had tipped them off. Her negotiations had been a ploy to buy time.
“I’ve underestimated you,” Pete muttered, laughing bitterly. His expression darkened as he slid into the SUV. The driver slammed on the gas; the high-performance vehicle roared to life, surging forward.
The sudden burst of speed sent everyone lurching backward. At this pace, breaking through the Special Operations Unit’s encirclement wouldn't be a problem.
The robed man inhaled sharply, momentarily relieved. He lashed out at Pete. “Hey, are you even capable? You told me this operation would guarantee Felicia’s capture, yet…it’s happening again! What’s going on?”
Before he could finish, a sharp pop from the front tire jolted the vehicle violently. The SUV fishtailed wildly on the dirt path. Fortunately, the driver was experienced and quickly stabilized the car. But before anyone could breathe a sigh of relief, another pop echoed—this time from the rear tire. The robed man and Pete exchanged glances, both realizing it wasn’t an accident. All four tires had been shot out deliberately.
“Fuck,” the driver cursed, gripping the wheel. Even the best car and driver couldn't overcome this. The vehicle's speed dropped drastically, crawling to a stop.
As the SUV stopped, rustling noises surrounded them. Figures emerged from the undergrowth and behind boulders—members of the Special Operations Unit.
Michail, the team captain, casually blew smoke from the barrel of his gun. He’d fired the four shots, hitting all four tires with pinpoint accuracy even while the vehicle was speeding. Now that the situation was resolved, Michail strolled up, his pace unhurried. Glancing at the two figures in the back seat, he said, “There’s no…”
The robed man’s jaw clenched; his expression shifted constantly as veins throbbed visibly on his forehead. Pete, however, maintained a relaxed demeanor; this turn of events seemed expected, or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
Before the robed man could speak, Pete cut him off. “Listen, I’ve got a chopper coming in ten minutes. With your skills, holding them off that long shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
“And what about you?” the old man snapped. “You’re just going to sit here and enjoy the show?”
“Of course not. I’ll join the fight. We’ll handle this together. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging,” Pete replied smoothly. He reached into the vehicle and pulled out two-edged daggers, handing one to the robed man.
The robed man’s expression softened slightly as he took the dagger, though his tone remained icy. “You’d better keep your word.”
Without another word, the robed man opened his door and stepped out. Simultaneously, Pete exited from the opposite side, and even the driver armed himself with a knife as he followed.
The Special Operations Unit team, led by Michail, was composed of highly trained individuals; Michail himself was armed with a gun.
Pete scanned the scene and muttered under his breath, “Michail won’t shoot. He wants the captives. Stop hesitating. Get them!”