I forced down the surge of hatred in my gut and leveled the gun at Clara’s left leg from the small of my back.
With a bang, blood sprayed across my cheek.
Ignoring the red haze in my eyes, I roared,
“Adrian, you know exactly how insane I am!”
“I swear, if you lay one more finger on Harris, she’ll die even worse!”
My finger rested on the trigger. I watched Adrian’s startled gaze and smiled.
I was betting he’d relent—beg for peace.
But the moment I yanked Clara by the hair,
a bullet tore through the palm of my right hand.
The drilling pain flooded my brain a breath too late.
The gaping hole was so deep I could see bone, shredded flesh sloughing off like pus with torn tendons.
As I trembled from the agony, Adrian’s men burst through the door.
The roses he had planted for me were trampled into the dirt under their boots.
He scooped Clara into his arms—payback for those eighteen stabs three years ago.
“The second time, Coco.”
“No matter how much I indulge you, I will never allow Clara to fall in front of me again!”
Adrian rushed out with the woman.
His men formed a wary circle around me, not sparing a glance for the bloody crater in my right hand.
Jaw clenched, I collapsed bonelessly onto the sofa.
I stared at my right hand, the fingers refusing to curl no matter how I tried—despair swallowing me whole.
No one knew better than Adrian how much I’d paid to hold my place in the underworld, licking blood from the knife’s edge.
I’d held a gun since seven, won the shooting championship in Newport City’s underground, and survived countless close calls with this hand.
My bullets were the noose around our enemies’ necks, the ladder beneath my feet.
Now it was ruined.
Nearly twenty years—gratitude or hatred, it no longer mattered.
Adrian, there is no “later” for us.
When the doctor came to stabilize me, Adrian’s people let him through, no resistance.
After a rough dressing, the doctor’s face turned grim.
“You need surgery immediately.”
“Ms. Hayes, even if you never hold a gun again, we must ensure it doesn’t affect your daily life.”
“Any further delay and you could lose the hand!”
I said nothing and pushed myself toward the door.
I was stopped at the front entrance of my own mansion.
“Mr. Cole has given orders. Ms. Ward’s surgery isn’t finished.”
“Ma’am, you can’t leave yet.”
Through the carved door, I stared at the layers of men surrounding the estate—and fell silent.
Adrian truly lived up to his so-called “knight’s code” in the underworld.
To save Clara’s life, he would do anything—
even if it meant turning me into a cripple from this day on and handing over generations of the Hayes empire.
I gave a cold laugh and dialed Adrian in front of everyone.
“Adrian, I’m leaving. I’m getting treatment.”
Silence for a few seconds on the line. Then his voice went cold.
“Wait.”
“Clara’s still in emergency care—the bullet hasn’t been removed.”
“Coco, if I let you out now, do you think she’ll survive?”
Everyone in Newport City knew I paid back blood for blood.
His men straightened at once, guns raised to block my way.
“Ma’am, don’t make this harder on us.”
Sweat beaded down my forehead.
I dropped the phone and said, ice-cold, “Hayes family, listen to my order.”
“Kill anyone who dares stand in your way today.”
I drew a long-unused combat knife from my back.
Bloodshot-eyed, I let go of reason completely.
Anyone who blocked me—I slashed for their throat and heart without hesitation.
