The battle inside was deafening, and those watching outside were equally on edge. Bramwell arrived, already eager to rush in and help. But before he could equip his weapon, he heard a gasp. Marcellus's face turned ashen as he lowered his binoculars and waved his hand, issuing the command: "Send in the assault team."
The commander of the security military district received the order and immediately organized the troops to be ready to enter the factory. There was a fundamental difference between police officers and special forces, especially since the target of this operation was Arabella. The soldiers sent to assist were the army's elite assault team, the very best of the best.
Both officers present attempted to dissuade Marcellus from entering the factory. After all, such a dangerous operation, one fraught with peril, was no place for the leader of a nation to be. But Marcellus, frantic with worry, could not be swayed. He had witnessed with his own eyes as Arabella was sent hurtling out of the window. The third floor was hardly a dangerous height for her, but he could not bring himself to believe that Taras had the strength to launch her that far. Without a second thought, he charged forward, disregarding all caution. Bramwell followed closely behind, and a squad of assault troops, armed and ready, swiftly entered the factory after them.
As they burst into the building, they found Taras and Faceless Ghost standing on the ground floor. Marcellus was the first to scan the open space, his eyes sharp as he searched for any sign of Arabella. He found none. There were no traces of blood on the floor, no evidence of a fall. It didn't appear as though she had been injured in any way.
"There are no signs of a fall. With Arabella's abilities, it's perfectly normal for her to climb mid-air and enter another area. Did she intentionally jump out of the window?" Bramwell crouched down to inspect the ground and came to a conclusion, looking up at Taras with curiosity.
Taras shook his head. "No, that's not right. She should be seriously injured. I kicked her out of the window. But the fact that she managed to escape in this situation shows just how terrifying her abilities are."
Marcellus furrowed his brows and immediately questioned, "You think you could hurt her?"
Faceless Ghost, clutching his shoulder wound, shook his head in helplessness. "If it weren't for the sneak attack from Blade and me earlier, injuring her, we'd be dead by now if she was at her peak."
"Enough talk," Marcellus interrupted. "While she's seriously injured, let's capture her first. She can't have gone far, she's definitely hiding somewhere. Send people to search."
Bramwell immediately responded, "When I was undercover, I trained in search techniques. I'll take a team and perform a net search, you three split up and search separately."
Marcellus wasn't interested in listening to their chatter. He rushed inside first. He didn't care whether they caught Arabella or not—what mattered to him was what they had said about her being seriously injured.
Taras and Faceless Ghost exchanged a look. Faceless Ghost immediately followed Marcellus, while Taras used the wall to climb directly to the second floor to search. Bramwell waved his hand and led the assault team to expand the search across the entire factory.
About ten minutes later, Bramwell's voice came through the walkie-talkie, low and urgent. "I found her. Hurry, she's in the backup warehouse of the second district. I haven't disturbed her."
Upon hearing the news, Marcellus and the others rushed to the scene, only to find Bramwell standing with a grim expression, his gaze fixed on a row of mechanical equipment in the far corner, both hands tightly gripping his weapon in alert. Beside him stood another assault team member, equally on guard. Hearing their approach, Bramwell took a few steps back to meet them, his voice low as he spoke. "I traced her trail and found her inside, but she hasn't moved. I'm not sure I can take her on alone... I'm uncertain of the situation."
Taras raised his gun, his voice cold. "I'll do it."
With a leap, Taras jumped onto the row of abandoned equipment from the side, carefully inching closer to Arabella's location. Marcellus slowly clenched his fists, watching Taras. For a moment, he didn't know how to handle the situation. In his heart, he knew full well—this time, Arabella had killed in public, and even without all the previous evidence, with the current eyewitnesses and physical evidence, she would undoubtedly be sentenced to death. For all the years he had vowed to kill Arabella, in this moment, he knew it was just an excuse to see her again—he couldn't bear to see her die. With a leap, Taras jumped onto the row of abandoned equipment from the side, carefully inching closer to Arabella's location. Marcellus slowly clenched his fists, watching Taras. For a moment, he didn't know how to handle the situation. In his heart, he knew full well—this time, Arabella had killed in public, and even without all the previous evidence, with the current eyewitnesses and physical evidence, she would undoubtedly be sentenced to death. For all the years he had vowed to kill Arabella, in this moment, he knew it was just an excuse to see her again—he couldn't bear to see her die.
The closer Taras got to Arabella's hiding spot, the more serious his expression became. He noticed that her breathing was extremely abnormal. After a moment, he suddenly lowered his gun and jumped down to investigate. The next second, he shouted, "She's seriously injured and unconscious!"
When Marcellus heard that Arabella was unconscious, he couldn't hold himself back. He rushed forward and scooped her up. But Taras stopped him the next second, saying, "General Ackerley, she's a serious criminal. This time, the evidence against her is irrefutable. It's best if she's taken straight to prison for trial."
"She needs immediate medical attention, she's injured!" Marcellus's eyes turned red with urgency. If he wasn't holding Arabella in his arms, he would have thrown a punch at Taras by now.
"She's injured? What about the police officers who died at the restaurant today? They're dead! They have families, parents, children. Do you know that the female officer she killed during the car chase was supposed to get married next year? Everyone has their own life they cherish. And those people—those were all your citizens, Marcellus, your country's people. And now, what are you doing?" Taras seized Marcellus by the collar, glaring at him. As a police officer, he had witnessed too much death and had done his share of disingenuous acts to capture criminals. He had poured so much effort into hunting Arabella, and now, facing justice and emotions, he would always choose justice. If even someone like him could act on emotion, what kind of justice or fairness could this world talk about?
Bramwell and Faceless Ghost silently blocked Marcellus's way. The assault trooper on the scene seemed a bit lost, as he hadn't expected the leader to help a criminal. Soon, the rest of the assault team arrived, and the Chief also came with other officers. Marcellus tightened his hold on Arabella, knowing that he had completely lost hope.
"Put handcuffs on her. Notify the maximum security prison, and inform the doctors to prepare for emergency treatment. Just make sure she lives until the day of her trial."
Marcellus gave Taras a cold look, then allowed other officers to take Arabella from his arms and place her on a stretcher. Taras remained unmoved, walking straight out. This high-stakes, urgent capture operation was a resounding success. To prevent the press from flooding in and exposing too much, Arabella was swiftly loaded into a police ambulance, and escorted through back alleys on her way to prison, away from prying eyes.
Everyone was busy, and seeing Marcellus unmoving, the head of his security detail could only step forward and softly urge, "General Ackerley—"
"Return to the National Assembly Building." Marcellus instructed expressionlessly, as if the person who had just lost control wasn't him at all.
Faceless Ghost looked at the busy crowd after the operation concluded and asked Bramwell beside him, "Do you think Marcellus will try to rescue Arabella again?"
Bramwell nodded, then shook his head, saying, "He will definitely want to try again, but this time it's impossible. Given Arabella's actions this time, the evidence is irrefutable. She can be sentenced to death directly. Marcellus has no chance of saving her now."
Faceless Ghost nodded and then turned to Bramwell with an apologetic expression, "I have to apologize. I had doubts about you before, especially when you suddenly revealed your identity."
Bramwell dismissed it indifferently, "It's normal. Long-term undercover agents like us, who are always walking the line between right and wrong, are like walking a tightrope. A single misstep can turn us into rogue cops. By the way, you're seriously hurt. Go to the hospital."
Meanwhile, a large convoy of police cars and armored military vehicles sped down the road, with the ambulance carrying Arabella at the center, its sirens blaring continuously. Inside, Taras sat, accompanied by a military doctor and two nurses, who were urgently administering first aid to Arabella.
After a period of busy work, the military doctor, sweating profusely, stopped and nodded at Taras, saying, "Officer Emerson, the prisoner is temporarily out of danger."
"Was it because of the chest injury?"
The doctor nodded and added, "She has severe signs of heart failure. I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left."
Taras remembered the moment during the fight when Arabella suddenly frowned and clutched her chest. Combined with the doctor's diagnosis during the resuscitation, it all seemed to match. Could Arabella's uncharacteristically rushed actions this time have been because she doesn't have much time left? Was that why she hastily led people into Scalien, planning to steal Cyrus's body at all costs? Even after her capture, Arabella had seized the opportunity while being held by Marcellus to act alone, attempting to make a move on her own. Had it not been for a lucky witness, she might have already been deep in the process of stealing Cyrus' body. All the suspicions that had lingered in his mind were finally given an explanation by the state of her condition.
As Taras was lost in thought, Arabella slowly regained consciousness. She raised her hand, and the sound of her handcuffs clinking against the bed railing rang out. Taras coldly warned her, "Arabella, I advise you not to waste your energy. You're seriously injured, and I'm right here. You can't escape."
Arabella was gravely injured, her face pale. She coughed violently a few times before laughing softly, "I never said I wanted to escape. I lost, so I'll let you catch me as agreed. I always keep my promises."
Taras was taken aback and thought back to when Arabella was set up by AE and still returned to her base to save Albatross as promised. This woman was strange—devious and cold-blooded, yet she was oddly bound to her word. He didn't know why. Perhaps recalling the past softened his tone a little as he asked, "When did you find out you didn't have long to live?"
Arabella raised an eyebrow, clearly not surprised by her physical condition. Instead, she teased, "You better hurry up. Don't let the verdict be issued, and I've already died from illness."
Before Taras could respond, his expression suddenly shifted. He forcefully shoved the doctor's head down, shouting, "Get down!" In that instant, bullets slammed into the vehicle's bulletproof glass. The specially modified rounds were incredibly powerful; though they couldn't penetrate the glass, they embedded themselves, leaving deep cracks in its surface.
Outside, chaos erupted as gunfire rang out in all directions. On both sides, fully armored riot police poured out of the vehicles, engaging with the gunmen. The newcomers were clad in full motorcycle gear, their faces hidden beneath helmets, but their skills were nothing short of extraordinary. As they weaved through the streets on their motorcycles, they fired with lethal precision, each shot a sure kill, relentlessly blocking the police's advance.
Inside the car, Arabella was clearly surprised. Her expression turned serious as she focused on the movements outside. Taras didn't get out, fearing it was a diversion to lure him out. Furthermore, Faceless Ghost was outside—no one could match him in skill. After all, there were only a few people who surpassed him in combat ability: besides himself and Arabella, there were only Marcellus and AE. With Marcellus absent and AE still in the State Guest House, Taras carefully observed the assailants and decided that none of them were likely to be the most dangerous one, Raven. Therefore, he had no immediate concerns.
Unexpectedly, the situation outside changed rapidly. Faceless Ghost was engaged in a fight with the attackers, but they were only able to reach a stalemate. In a prolonged battle, he would likely lose. Taras couldn't sit still any longer. He pulled out his gun, opened the car door, and fired a shot at the person.
The attacker had clearly been wary of Taras in the car. As soon as he moved, the assailant immediately dodged. Their agility and skill were at least on par with Marcellus's. Who was this person?
As Taras stood there, his mind racing with suspicion, the mysterious figure's gaze seemed to briefly meet Arabella's inside the vehicle. After a moment's hesitation, however, the person showed no signs of hesitation, swiftly getting on the motorcycle and speeding off, showing no attachment to the battle.
"Don't pursue them. His skill isn't necessarily inferior to mine," Taras stopped the Faceless Ghost from leading the pursuit. He then gave the order, "Speed up, head to the prison."
Arabella, who had previously looked somewhat solemn, now seemed a little more at ease. She even had the energy to boast, "Looks like I have good relations with people, someone's willing to risk their life to save me like this."
Taras snorted coldly, "Oh really? The kind of help that runs as soon as they can't win? I'm curious, who are they? Is it not the person staying in the State Guest House, Julius?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself?" Arabella said, closing her eyes and turning away, refusing to acknowledge Taras any further. Her face was deathly pale, and even speaking seemed to take all her strength. Taras fixed her with a long, searching look, his expression tinged with curiosity and concern.
