Priscilla, crouched behind an overturned table, found herself shielded by the corner of the wall and the furniture. Though she had some skill—after all, she came from a family of generals—she couldn't help but feel like her modest abilities would seem laughable compared to Arabella's. Perhaps, to Arabella, most people's skills were not even worth mentioning.
The attackers, evidently avoiding heavy weaponry to prevent too much noise, used only light firearms—small calibers, short ranges, but with deadly precision. Each gun was fitted with a suppressor, clearly prepared for this.
The first masked man in the front raised his gun and opened fire in Arabella's direction. The bullets came fast, but despite being unarmed, Arabella remained calm. She sidestepped and leapt to the side, just as a flash of silver cut through the air. The attacker, distracted by the pain shooting through his palm, looked down in disbelief to see his fingers severed at the knuckles. The pain was excruciating, causing even the most seasoned of soldiers to stumble in disorientation.
In just a moment of distraction, before he could even shift his gaze back ahead, Arabella had already approached him like a ghost. She seized his wrist with her left hand, and with a sharp crack, the sound of bones breaking echoed. The gun fell into her hand, unable to withstand the pressure. As she grabbed the gun, she abruptly leaned back, firing two shots at the two attackers rushing towards her, each shot landing directly in their heads. At the same time, her left leg kicked sideways, sending the disarmed assassin flying.
The entire sequence of actions flowed like a stream of water, and Priscilla, hiding in the corner, watched in awe.
The assassin whose fingers severed and wrist shattered by Arabella, crumpled to the ground, his bones jutting out grotesquely through the torn flesh, still tethered by muscle and sinew. He could not bear the force of her kick, and was sent sprawling into the oncoming wave of attackers. The newcomers, cold and precise, raised their weapons, unleashing a hail of bullets that tore him down, clearing the way without hesitation.
In just a few seconds of delay, Arabella had already reached their front. Her movements were impossibly fast, and her strength overwhelming. Before they could even see her clearly, a warm, delicate hand seized one of them by the neck. The man didn't even have time to breathe before his neck was crushed with immense force, his head snapping to the side as he died instantly. One of the men, holding a gun, attempted to fire. But in his heightened state of tension, his muscles tensed up. At such close range, firing would have been a suicide mission.
The sparks from the gunfire flashed blindingly under the lights, and the scent of gunpowder quickly filled the air, thickening the atmosphere. In the midst of the haze, Arabella's fist cut through the smoke like a thunderclap, striking directly at her opponent's chest. The force behind her punch carried the weight of hundreds of pounds, enough to crush the heart and end his life in a single blow.
In just under two minutes, Arabella had calmly killed four of the men. The remaining few were dealt with even more swiftly. Two of them, still walking down the hallway, were directly sniped by Arabella from above. After swiftly and cleanly taking out all the assassins, Arabella placed one hand on the table that Priscilla had been hiding behind, and with a low smile, said, "Come out, Miss Cardew."
Priscilla was stunned by the brutal, near-instant kills in the fight, her eyes gleaming with shock.
"Master Unknown, you're just too impressive."
Arabella didn't respond. When she killed, she wasn't concerned with making it beautiful. Her sole purpose was to eliminate the target. Priscilla, however, was the first person to say she looked "impressive" while doing it.
Seeing that Arabella remained silent, Priscilla's throat tightened in fear, her breath catching as her chest rose and fell with heavy, almost desperate breaths, the curves straining as if they might burst free. Arabella's gaze lingered on the swell of her chest, an eyebrow arched with a faint smile that, in Priscilla's eyes, exuded a wild, untamed allure.
"Miss Cardew, your breasts are also nice."
Priscilla was momentarily taken aback by Arabella's offhanded compliment. She glanced at Arabella's modest chest, then at her own full, swelling curves, before instinctively offering a playful remark, "Master Unknown do you need a little boost? I have a royal formula for that."
The smile on Arabella's lips deepened as she leaned in a little closer to Priscilla. Her soft, pink lips were now just in front of Priscilla's eyes. Priscilla nervously stared at them, feeling that even unpainted, they were so red and striking under the lights. Arabella, now closer, spoke in a low, enticing voice, "How did you get so big? Did you... enhance them?"
*
Priscilla approached Arabella with the intention of using her to eliminate her brother, George, to seize control of the country and become the queen without a crown.
Arabella wasn't interested in the reasons behind the sibling rivalry; she only cared about the benefits she could gain. Clearly, the conditions Priscilla offered were not enough to satisfy her, especially when Priscilla offered herself in exchange. While the idea was not bad, she had chosen the wrong person. For Arabella, lust was merely a piece of meat—something that could be consumed or left, but she would never risk failure over it.
As soon as the beautiful sister faded into the distance, Arabella, walking alone down the quiet path, came upon a sleek and ostentatious sports car blocking her way. Inside, George sat in casual attire, a cigarette dangling from his lips, clearly just lit, its embers flickering like tiny stars in the darkness.
Although George's appearance could not be called perfectly handsome, it was still of the highest order. His frame was tall and poised, his brown eyes glowing softly under the light, exuding a hazy, ethereal charm that suggested a depth of emotion—elegant, yet sensually captivating.
Upon seeing Arabella approaching alone, George, in a good mood, broke into a carefree smile. His arm extended gracefully, and with a fluid motion, his slender fingers plucked the cigarette from his mouth, flicking it aside. He opened the car door with ease, stood up, and leaned against it, saying, "Master Unknown, shall we talk inside the car?" The word was spoken in a soft, sensual tone, accompanied by a deep rumble in his chest and a trailing note, as if a current was running through her body.
Arabella calmly accepted the temptation offered by George. One night, the brother and sister played their parts—one in the first half, the other in the second—truly a lively affair.
"Master Unknown, your skill is truly impressive," he mused, his gaze fixed on the figure seated beside him. Arabella's skin, impossibly fair and delicate, seemed to glow even under the dim streetlights, as though lit by an invisible soft box, radiating a luminous beauty that left him utterly captivated.
"Mhm." Arabella accepted the compliment with a smile, the unspoken understanding between them clear—both knew exactly who had been behind the earlier group of assassins.
"My sister is simply too spoiled. She thinks everything in the world can be hers, that if she desires something, she can take it."
"Isn't that so?" Arabella arched an eyebrow in playful challenge.
George paused for a moment, then gave a low, approving laugh. "Indeed. In the face of absolute power, all obstacles are fragile, and naturally, one can have whatever they wish. But such power... who, between my sister and me, is fortunate enough to wield it?"
Arabella maintained her usual smiling face, but her words were lewd and flirtatious: "Your sister said she has a secret technique from the royal family to enlarge my breasts."
George's eyes brightened, and the atmosphere inside the car seemed to be drenched in a layer of fiery oil, instantly igniting. It was like a heat that had long been contained, suddenly given the chance to break free.
"I took it upon myself to enlarge your breasts, and the result is excellent." As soon as the words left his lips, he leaned in and kissed her fiercely, the kiss long and filled with a sense of domination.
The confined space of the car was thick with a powerful, predatory air. George was like a beast, waiting for the right moment to strike, finally sinking his teeth into his prey after a night of stalking. His fervor consumed him as he seized Arabella by the back of her neck, his grip forcing her head back. The kiss was forceful and all-encompassing, full of dominance, every movement radiating a raw brutality restrained only by the thinnest veneer of control.
The clothes were ripped off violently, and Arabella relaxed her body and leaned back, allowing the man on top of her to act as he pleased. This erotic technique made the sexual encounter even more enjoyable. Arabella's entire skin was fair, and in contrast to George's all-black shirt, the naked Arabella looked even more lethargic and stunning.
The intense visual impact only served to further ignite his senses, stirring his deepest desires. In the flames of his gaze, love and possession intertwined, as though he wished to devour Arabella beneath him, crushing and consuming her until there was nothing left.
Arabella had a lean figure, but not the kind that was boring. She had slender, strong hands and feet, a flexible waist, and breasts that were not overwhelmingly large, but were shapely and well-formed. George lifted his hands and massaged them, then opened his mouth to take the erect, red nipple into his mouth. Instantly, the car was filled with a low, sensual sound, and only the slightly moist voice could be heard faintly, creating a seductive atmosphere of eroticism.
The car was awash in a tide of desire, while outside, the night was as cold and deep as water, its darkness endless and impenetrable.
