Chapter 19
The sharp, suppressed cracks of gunfire echoed in the cinematic, bright sunlight of the city street. The remaining two mercenaries froze, absolutely stunned by the lethal, surgical precision of the woman they had assumed was a helpless civilian. Lucy did not seek cover. She stepped over the fallen bodies, her fair, rosy cheeks flushed with pure adrenaline. She raised her weapon, aiming directly at the chest of the third mercenary. "Drop it," Lucy commanded, her American accent ringing with undeniable, terrifying authority. The men hastily dropped their rifles, raising their hands in sheer panic. Lucy pulled out her encrypted smartphone with her free hand, dialing the direct line to the estate. "Marcus," Lucy said calmly, not taking her eyes off the terrified hostiles. "I have a situation on 5th Avenue. Two neutralized, two secured. Send a cleanup crew." Within minutes, the black armored SUVs of the Blackwell syndicate swarmed the street. Ethan stepped out of the lead vehicle, his imposing, movie-star handsome face carved in stone. He looked at the bodies, then at Lucy, his cold, intimidating eyes softening with profound respect. "You handled yourself flawlessly, Lucy," Ethan murmured.
