Chapter 390

Hannah fixed the weapon directly on Vincent, her stare unyielding, sharp and glacial.

The crushing certainty in her posture sent a suffocating weight into every chest.

Vincent locked onto those frozen pupils of Hannah's, his lungs tearing for air, chest heaving as if something inside him splintered apart. His glance flicked to the muzzle pointed at him,a hollow,joyless chuckle escaping. "So what's next? You gonna pull the trigger?"

Hannah's hand remained steady, not even a twitch. "I'm leaving today,Vincent. Nothing will stop me."

"And if I refuse to let you leave?" His tone sank, lethal and cutting like honed steel. He motioned.

In an instant, chaos detonated. Both factions had been strung taut like cords. At his signal, bodies burst into frenzy.

Two of Vincent's fiercest guards lunged at Claude without hesitation.

Claude's men bellowed in fury, weapons lifting as brutal melee ignited.

Shots cracked sharp and fast, yet the clash devolved into savage grappling. Blows hammered into flesh with sickening,dull resonance.

Vincent registered none of it. His sight clung only to Hannah.Through carnage, through bodies, he advanced-measured,unstoppable, carving a path with nothing but ferocity. "Don't come any closer!" Hannah's voice fractured as her hold of the pistol tightened, the barrel trembling faintly now. "I'll pull the trigger, Vincent, I swear!"

But he grinned. A ruined, twisted shape of his mouth, desperate and raw. "And what?" His rasp was shredded by mania. "Think that frightens me?"

His pace never faltered.

Ten meters.

Eight.

Her gaze widened, registering the recklessness burning inside him. This was no bluff. He wasn't gambling on her hesitation.He would seize her, whatever it cost.

Five meters.

Bang! A shot thundered, rending the air like a storm ripping the heavens apart.

For a breath, the earth forgot to move. Every fighter froze,heads snapping to the source of the sound.

Vincent's frame jolted violently, his stride breaking backward.Dark crimson spread fast across his side, staining his spotless shirt in moments. His eyes dropped to the wound and then rose,fastening on Hannah again.

A guard immediately bolted to his flank, frantic to check the damage.

Hannah's grip quaked on the pistol, faint smoke lifting from the muzzle. Her skin blanched to chalk, chest seizing, but her eyes carved like blades. Untrembling.

She had pulled the trigger only twice in her life. All because of Vincent. Once to rescue him. And once to get away from him.

Claude's chest twisted, but a shadowed grin crept onto his lips.cruelly pleased. So, her loathing for Vincent ran that deep.Excellent.

"I warned you!" Hannah's words rattled, torn and uneven. "I wasn't bluffing."

Vincent's brow gleamed with cold sweat, agony distorting his face-yet he didn't collapse. He swallowed the groan clawing at him and hauled himself upright. Shoving away the hands steadying him, he forced forward, drenched in blood. He marched still. To him, wounds meant little. Losing her-that was torment.

"Return with me." His voice was gravel, cracked and low, yet steady. It swept the helipad, hushed but unbending.

The sight of Vincent upright-bleeding, staggering, and still determined to drag Hannah back with him-left all stunned.

Hannah stared as he advanced, step by step, his steps dragging scarlet behind. Then, suddenly, she smiled. A pale curl of lips,cruel and cold, void of affection. She murmured,"Over my dead body."

The syllables had barely touched the air before Hannah acted.Without falter, she pivoted the weapon-pressing its barrel tight against her own temple.

The metal scorched her skin, heat radiating from the last round.

Her finger locked around the trigger. No quiver. No pause. And then she pressed.

"Hannah! Stop-don't!" Claude's roar tore free, frantic and guttural, terror distorting his features. He lunged instinctively,but halted mid-motion, terrified his movement might make her pull the trigger.

Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. His reddened gaze locked Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. His reddened gaze locked to her finger wound around the trigger, his plea splintering,laced with dread and rage. "Drop it! Hannah, drop the damn gun!"

Her breath came sharp and broken, knuckles whitening as she pressed harder, steel carving into her temple. "Order them to back off." Her voice cut through the rotor's howl, calm but iron -bound. "Everyone. A hundred yards. Now."

Vincent's chest heaved, each inhale shredding his side in searing pain. Yet, none of it compared to this-the unbearable torment of watching her turn the weapon on herself. "You really have to drive it this far?" he rasped,voice flayed, gutted by something worse than pain.