As Arabella approached, Raven and a group of subordinates were already by the river on the other side, fetching water and washing up. Earlier, Arabella had been at the river washing herself, and while she didn't care in the slightest about her own body, one glance at Raven's icy expression was enough to tell the others to keep their distance. Raven refrained from disturbing her, but Taras had no such qualms. Not being one of Arabella's subordinates, he cared little for such considerations. From the early days of scheming and betrayal to the present chaos, the two of them had shared so many fiery nights together that even sparks of genuine emotion had emerged amidst the flames.
Raven, now dressed in a camouflage uniform, handed a military binocular to Arabella as she approached and said in a low voice, "This is a barren mountain. We'll have to cross several hundred kilometers before we reach any sign of human habitation."
Arabella nodded, glancing at the backpack slung over Raven's shoulder before turning her gaze to Taras and Merrick washing in the river. Smiling, she pointed to her own face and said, "Back then, before Vincent died, he left a letter for me, saying I would never meet a good end." Even though the sarcasm in Arabella's tone was obvious, Raven's eyelid twitched, his gaze hardening like a blade as he gave his solemn assurance: "Master Unknown will live a long and peaceful life."
Arabella was well aware of the intense emotions behind Raven's promise. She patted his back in reassurance before turning her gaze toward Bramwell, who was helping other subordinates pitch tents nearby. Following her gaze, Raven muttered, "Master Unknown has a lot of people to worry about." Raven was typically one to keep his emotions well-concealed, rarely betraying restlessness. Though his words carried a hint of childish complaint, a glance from afar revealed his striking presence. Dressed in a military-green camouflage uniform, the outfit accentuated the defined contours of his muscles. His belt cinched tightly at his waist, highlighting the deep, tapering lines that extended downward. His long legs, straight and powerful beneath the fabric, exuded peak physical condition—an embodiment of sheer strength.
Arabella didn't respond further. She idly rubbed her gun against her forehead, her gaze drifting to the distant mountains. The clouds rolling across the sky were tinged with the fiery hues of sunset, like blood spilling across the horizon—a mesmerizing reminder of mortality.
Arabella had just taken the compressed can from Bramwell's hand when her expression sharpened suddenly, a chilling murderous aura erupting. Her movements were so swift they left barely a trace, her figure already a blur as she leapt toward the riverbank. Taras, just rising and wiping himself dry, saw a blur and heard Arabella's urgent voice:"Get down—!"
Bramwell was only a half-step slower. Already near Arabella and possessing excellent reflexes, he instinctively rolled into safety the moment she darted away. Not far off, Raven reacted just as swiftly, letting out a furious roar as he led his men to take cover behind the nearest rocky slope.
The gunfire wasn't as intense or threatening as one might have expected. It wasn't directed at Bramwell or the others but concentrated entirely by the river. From the sound of it, the shots seemed almost symbolic. It was clear that the attackers hadn't come to annihilate Arabella's group.
In mere minutes, the desolate mountain slopes were suddenly swarming with regular troops. Clad in unified field uniforms and armed with full gear, it was clear they had been lying in wait. Peering through the cracks between the rocks, Bramwell could see the hills teeming with soldiers—Scalien's soldier. These were said to be their elite field army, the pride of their forces.
"Surrender your weapons, and you won't be killed!" shouted a communications officer from the front lines, his voice booming. Yet the surroundings remained deathly silent.
Bramwell's heart skipped a beat. He shrank back into the rocks, instinctively looking toward Arabella, but his view was obscured. All he could see was her lone figure standing motionless by the riverbank.
Suddenly, Taras tilted his head slightly just before a gunshot rang out. Arabella, arriving just in time, tackled him into the river. Now, he rose slowly from the water. Towering and broad-shouldered, his usual careless demeanor had vanished. A sharp, frost-like edge etched itself across his brow as he cast a cold glance at Arabella, letting out a faint laugh: "Master Unknown, where are you hurt?"
Beside Arabella stood Merrick. During her dive, one of her arms had shielded him, while the other dragged Taras down. Now, as Arabella remained standing, Merrick had shifted to the other side. He unhurriedly removed his wet clothes, revealing his lean, sculpted torso, before slipping into clean garments. When done, he glanced at Arabella, his eyes catching the glow of the setting sun, a faint golden sheen accentuating their depths. The previously hazy gaze transformed, sharp and predatory, as he briefly sized her up before turning toward Taras. With curiosity lacing his voice, Merrick asked, "Did either of us hit the mark?"
Holding his wet clothes, Taras stepped forward toward where Arabella was standing. In a tone both dangerous and certain, he declared, "We struck together. There was no way she could have avoided it."
A gentle breeze brushed past as Arabella stood motionless, her silence unnerving. At a glance, there seemed to be nothing unusual about her. Taras and Merrick exchanged glances, opting not to make any rash moves.
Instead, a signal officer stationed on the hilltop stepped forward, his voice booming from above. "Arabella, you've got the nerve to come back?"
Arabella lifted her head slowly at the sound, her gaze landing on the man atop the hill. It was Marcellus, clad in full military attire. When she left back then, Marcellus still carried the spirited radiance of youth. During their chance encounter on that storm-laden night over three years ago, she hadn't looked at him closely. Now, as she carefully observed him, she saw the sharp depth of a grown man etched into his demeanor. Years of leading troops and quelling wars had steeped him in an air of steely resolve, a battle-hardened edge that radiated an aura of unyielding might. One glance was enough to command respect and caution.
Marcellus locked his gaze onto Arabella. For a moment, their eyes met. His dark eyes glimmered faintly as he pressed his lips into a cold sneer. "Arabella, since you dare to come, leave your life here."
Arabella didn't reply. Instead, she shifted her gaze to Merrick beside her. With a face identical to Cyrus's, his presence alongside Marcellus seemed to resurrect the days of old. The Ackerley brothers truly looked identical, yet their temperaments were polar opposites. Cyrus had a gentle, serene expression, his smile as pure as a mountain spring, devoid of ambition. In contrast, Marcellus had been rebellious from a young age, his sharp brows exuding an indomitable air. On the same face, his cold, stern features carried an overwhelming sense of oppression.
Seeing Arabella remain silent, Taras frowned and barked at Marcellus, "Cut the nonsense. Capture her first." He lunged at Arabella with lightning speed. Merrick, seeing Taras move, naturally joined in with a flying punch. However, a shadow suddenly darted in, intercepting his attack. A closer look revealed it was Raven, who had somehow crept in unnoticed.
Raven's skills were extraordinary; among everyone present, few had detected his movements. As Merrick traded blows with him, he shouted angrily at Marcellus, "Make a move already! What are you waiting for?"
Marcellus didn't need Merrick's urging. With a wave of his hand, soldiers advanced in unison. The vanguard armed with rocket launchers aimed directly at the rocky area below. From their elevated position and with such overwhelming numbers, the outcome of the battle seemed inevitable. Arabella's subordinates, hidden among the rocks, were sweating profusely, too terrified to act rashly.
Before Marcellus could give a command, Taras suddenly shouted, "Arabella—"
Everyone's attention shifted to Taras and Arabella. The two had ceased fighting, and behind Arabella stood a man with cold eyes, holding a gun pointed at her. It was Bramwell.
"Arabella, I suggest you surrender. On any other day, you could've dodged my ambush. But in your current injured state, there's no way you can avoid me."
At this point, Arabella dropped her feigned smile, a trace of disdain curling at her lips as she asked, "And who are you?"
Taras and Merrick were stunned. They had never expected Arabella to have such a skilled undercover by her side. Was her entire circle infiltrated by the authorities?
"Eagle," Bramwell replied.
The name left everyone visibly shaken. Eagle was an undercover cop who had vanished years ago and was also ranked in the Night Owl network. No wonder his skills were so formidable, capable of slipping past even Arabella's vigilance.
At this point, the outcome seemed sealed. Even in her prime, Arabella wouldn't have been able to take on so many. Now, injured and outnumbered, even with Raven's help, victory was out of reach.
But then, against all expectations, Raven stood firm, his posture as steady as a pine. With one hand, he unzipped a backpack and with the other, pointed his gun inside. In a cold, commanding voice, he barked, "Let's see who dares take another step!"
Marcellus leapt down from one side of the valley, his heart pounding as he caught sight of the contents in Raven's bag. He glared at Arabella, demanding angrily, "Are you insane? Using biochemical weapons?"
Arabella met Marcellus's gaze, her expression hovering between a smirk and a sneer, with a rare trace of mischief in her eyes.
At the mention of biochemical weapons, the nearby group's faces darkened instantly. This wasn't a matter of just a few lives—an explosion would devastate the surrounding area for decades.
Marcellus steadied himself and directed his question to Raven: "What are you trying to do?"
"Simple. Let me take Master Unknown and leave safely."
"Impossible!" Bramwell was the first to object, pressing the muzzle of his gun against Arabella's back. His eyes burned with fierce determination, emanating an air of righteous indignation.
"Then we'll die together!" Raven's finger moved, ready to pull the trigger.
"How about we make another deal?" Marcellus tried to calm Raven, employing his skill as a politician. "Arabella has always been a high-priority criminal for Scalien. This operation was set up to capture her alive. Here's the deal: take your men and leave the way you came, as long as you leave Arabella behind."
Raven didn't blink as he flatly refused. "I'm taking Master Unknown with me, no matter what."
Marcellus let out a sudden, cold laugh. "They say, 'As long as there's life, there's hope.' Are you so set on your path that you won't even ask your Master Unknown if she's ready to die right now?"
Arabella, who had remained silent until now, wore a somber expression. She turned to Raven and spat out a single word: "Leave." She has always lacked humanity. Over the past few years, she put on a facade, pretending to be human, but now, at this moment, her true form has emerged, revealing her sinister, sharp fangs.
"It seems your loyalty is wasted—Arabella doesn't appreciate it. Without her, I imagine someone of your talent could carve out a remarkable path," Marcellus continued to sow doubt. Though his loathing for Arabella often left him both disgusted and exhilarated, he maintained his usual rationality and methods when dealing with others.
Raven remained silent, unfazed by Marcellus's attempts to sow discord. However, one thing Marcellus said struck a chord—if they wanted to survive, preserving their lives had to come first.
He stepped back and shouted without turning around, "Pack up. We're leaving." A few of the subordinates, who were always adept at assessing the situation, cautiously peeked out, then began gathering together. Some of them kept their guns raised, staying alert, while others started packing up, preparing to retreat.
Merrick panicked, turning to Marcellus. "He's saving the lives, but for us, that's releasing a demon back into the world."
Marcellus cast a subtle glance at Arabella. In his mind, as long as Arabella was captured, the rest didn't even qualify as threats.
"If you want to die, no one's stopping you."
Marcellus's cutting remark left Merrick fuming, but he could only watch helplessly as Raven and his men retreated back through the cave they had come from.
The night was gradually falling, and the wind began to pick up. On the wild valley above, outdoor searchlights had already been turned on, casting their beams downwards. Bramwell stepped forward from behind Arabella, chuckling softly. His light-colored eyes, devoid of warmth under the stark searchlights, had lost their usual tenderness. He now resembled a bloodthirsty beast, ready to devour its prey. "Arabella, I've spent years on this, and finally, I've brought you to justice."
Taras reverted to his usual playful demeanor, though his gaze was sharp as he stared at Bramwell. "I'm curious why you haven't contacted the police in over three years."
"Three years ago, when I was passing intel, I discovered a undercover in the police force. My superior was suddenly killed, and I didn't know who in the department could be trusted. So, I went underground. Since I knew the Tumor Project must have more than just one undercover agent from the police, I decided to wait for the right opportunity. I'll explain everything in detail after this."
Bramwell's explanation seemed sufficient for Taras, who withdrew his probing gaze. Arabella was now entirely isolated, surrounded on all sides.
Marcellus took a step forward, his military boots crunching lightly against the gravel. It was as if, with that single step, he had already seized Arabella by the throat and held her life in his hands.
"Arabella, how dare a dog like you think you're worthy of my brother?"
Taras frowned slightly from the side, clearly displeased with Marcellus's insulting words. As a police officer, his duty was to capture criminals like Arabella. He found Marcellus's mixing of personal vendettas with official business distasteful.
Arabella stood straight, maintaining her composure. From the moment she fell into Taras and Merrick's trap and got injured, to fighting Taras despite her wounds, and now being surrounded with a gun to her head—she remained silent, refusing to utter a single word.
Seeing Arabella's silence, Marcellus stepped forward to restrain her, but to his surprise, Arabella suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. She dropped to one knee and then collapsed onto her back, clearly on the verge of death.
"Arabella!"
The men surrounding her were all visibly startled. For the moment, they forgot about capturing her, hurriedly lifting her and rushing her to the hospital for emergency treatment.
