With his soul shaken, Quentin finally saw the reality.
Arabella never intended to leave any survivors.
All the constant changes in the trading locations were merely a tactic to break down his last mental defenses over time, preparing the way for her final strike.
His death would mean the death of his sister, Ivy.
Therefore, he absolutely couldn't die—at least, not before today ended.
If he survived, he would still have a chance to save his sister.
He accepted the police chief's suggestion, choosing to involve the police and initiating a citywide manhunt.
After regaining his composure, Quentin speculated that Arabella would never move with her entire team. It was much more likely that one group would take Ivy, while the other would seize the opportunity to kill him.
He only needed to focus all his manpower on the group carrying his sister, and once she was rescued—
He would burn Kewa to the ground if necessary, just to ensure that Arabella died in the flames.
He couldn't believe this woman could defy the odds and escape from any situation.
With this arrangement, the whole of Kewa was practically in turmoil. Police cars lined the roads, parked tightly together. As Raven and his team were about to emerge from the roadside, they immediately sensed something was wrong.
With such dense roadblocks and checkpoints, movement had become almost impossible.
Had Quentin gone mad? Was he really willing to risk his sister's life just to eliminate Arabella?
Arabella playfully watched through her binoculars as sirens blared in the distance, then remarked with mild regret, "It seems Quentin has realized that I'm his opponent."
"What should we do, Master Unknown?" The man, who had been ready to set out with his men, almost got caught by the police when he showed his face. He could only sneak back, utterly lost, to ask Arabella for help.
Arabella smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I've got my own plan."
Her face held a pleasant smile, but inside, she was simmering with rage and shame.
Quentin's desperate resistance unexpectedly stirred her killing intent.
She had initially planned to keep things low-key, with minimal bloodshed.
But now, it seemed Quentin was just as shameless as Marcellus, equally ungrateful and reckless.
As her anger brewed, a more vicious plan took shape in her mind—this time, it would be an all-out massacre.
"Set up the camera. Record—"
Arabella drew her slim knife and, with steady precision, sliced into the vein above the ankle of the unconscious Ivy, who was hanging with his arms bound behind him.
The knife's point was razor-sharp, and with a swift stroke, dark red blood seeped from the blue vein on his ankle.
"Quentin, you have one hour. Come meet me."
After sending the video with a false location to Quentin, Arabella gave further instructions. "Raven, come with me. We'll set up an ambush halfway. As for the others—"
Arabella paused, recalling what the leader had told her before she left: "Master Unknown, that boy Bramwell is clever and loyal. If possible, could you bring him back alive?"
"Bramwell, you come too. Increase firepower. Everyone else, stay here and avoid detection. At nightfall, head straight to the port for rendezvous."
"Master Unknown, it's too dangerous for you to go alone. Let us go together." The man who admired Arabella, eager to prove himself, mistook his assigned post as a protection and was anxious to join.
Arabella patted his shoulder with a touched expression and gently advised, "You're steady and dependable. Keep a close eye on the hostage for me. If anything feels off, slit her throat first."
"Yes, Master Unknown, don't worry." Receiving such instructions from their boss, everyone was naturally resolved to carry out her orders.
Without a flicker of emotion, Arabella left these men's lives behind, taking Raven and Bramwell with her.
With the three of them on foot, their target profile was significantly smaller.
After slipping into the barren hills by the roadside, Arabella gave Raven a calm command: "The two of you head straight to the pier. Don't wait for me."
Bramwell was stunned. Weren't they supposed to ambush halfway? Why were they just leaving now?
Having grown up following Arabella, Raven knew all too well that Arabella's kindness was always feigned.
He suspected that the lives of those left behind were merely bait in Arabella's calculated scheme.
Raven glanced at the still-confused Bramwell, his emotions tugging painfully between agony and joy.
In Arabella's heart, he was likely as light as a feather, but even a feather took up space, and at least she took him along as a matter of course. He found himself pathetically pleased by this.
After the fervor came overwhelming melancholy, realizing that he and the other sidekick were treated the same.
He wasn't unique.
He didn't know if anyone could ever be the one and only in Arabella's heart.
Arabella left the two of them behind and walked on alone. When it came to killing, anyone by her side was just dead weight.
She was ruthless as always, and this time, Quentin had touched her last nerve. In her mind, she calculated countless ways to end his life.
After considering all possibilities, she scorned herself, thinking it might be simpler to end it with a single bullet.
Once dead, they were gone; the drawn-out process was meaningless.
A lighter death wouldn't bring the person back to life.
While Arabella was sharpening her knives, Taras was busy staging a coup, chopping his boss into minced meat.
Though he was called the boss of Abyss, he was actually just a decoy.
The true founder of the Abyss had long disappeared. Seven years ago, the Abyss suddenly rose to prominence with aggressive momentum, almost wiping out the old gang, the Destiny.
But it was only almost.
For some unknown reason, that mysterious leader of the Abyss suddenly vanished, leaving an incompetent and unworthy successor in his place before disappearing altogether.
It seemed Abyss was merely a toy he started on a whim, discarded once he grew bored.
His disappearance allowed Quentin, who inherited his family's business, to patiently rebuild his strength over the years, eventually regaining ground until the current balance of power was nearly split in two.
After stabilizing his own position, Taras prepared to lend Arabella a hand.
Though Kewa was the Destiny's base, they had fully mobilized at this critical, chaotic moment.
From Taras's perspective, helping Arabella was a prime opportunity to get closer to her.
Arabella was like a wild horse, hard to tame. Even if he managed to ride her, he could be thrown off at any moment.
Only through long-term companionship would there be a chance to put a rein on the wild horse in a moment of vulnerability.
He deployed nearly all of Abyss's hidden forces within Kewa, launching a full-scale assault on the Destiny.
Determined to stir the already boiling situation into further chaos.
Though the upper echelons of the Destiny had been informed and anticipated the Abyss's moves, instructing the members at each stronghold to ignore Abyss's provocations.
But the lower-level thugs, accustomed to wielding power across their territories in Kewa, couldn't tolerate Abyss's provocations.
Beatings over territory, street killings, arson, and robbery erupted all at once.
The police, who had surrounded the intersections, had to pull back half their forces to restore order.
None of this affected Arabella's intent to kill.
She noticed that Taras had intervened to help her.
But she was ungrateful, as it was unnecessary; he was merely indirectly helping those hiding in the shelter.
Those lives were ones she never intended to spare.
Arabella stood on high ground, observing the main residence of the Destiny from a distance.
Lush with foliage and ancient charm, it was indeed an old and luxurious mansion, surrounded on all sides like an iron fortress.
Beside Arabella lay a recently acquired sniper rifle. The police had stationed snipers at close range, planning to shoot her from an elevated position if she appeared.
It was futile, however—just more opportunities for her to take their lives and their guns.
Casually, she took down a sniper and retreated to a far-off location, watching the police inside scramble in disarray with a calm expression.
In the direction of the main estate, there was only noise from the outside; inside, it was silent.
Quentin clearly knew that his only chance of survival lay in staying hidden.
But—what did that matter?
A cruel smile appeared on Arabella's face, her sharp features taking on a deathly, reaper-like expression.
She raised her hand and sent over a full video of where Ivy was held, then set up her scope to observe. The distance was so great she could only make out vague black dots, already beyond the visible range for sniping.
But she didn't need clarity; she just needed to lock onto those black dots with the crosshair, memorizing their positions at the moment of chaos.
She waited quietly until the commotion in that area calmed down again.
Leisurely, she adjusted for wind, aimed the rifle at the center focal point, and then slowly closed her eyes.
Arabella, able to take an enemy's life from beyond a thousand soldiers, relied on her unbeatable skill in blind-spot sniping. She rarely missed, and even when she did, she always had more than enough time to take a second shot.
At such a far distance, it was like a bullet fired from the heavens; you wouldn't even know where it came from.
She was sure that even in his calm, once Quentin saw his sister's actual place of captivity, he would lose control.
Even the slightest loss of control would allow her to send him straight to his grave.
After one shot, Arabella put away the rifle, tilted her head, and casually flexed her fingers. Without needing to look, she was confident of her success.
After her shot, the Destiny's main estate had yet to react. The gunfire had been so faint due to the distance.
Because the bullet traveled faster than sound, the guards near the entrance only later heard a faint tapping noise, gone in an instant.
By the time someone heard the noise and rushed into the room, Quentin had already been shot through the throat. His neck, along with half of his skull, had been shattered into pieces. Brain matter and blood splattered everywhere, painting a scene of utter devastation.
After decades of power, the Destiny met its downfall with this incident.
