Chapter 690

The air crackled with tension as Daniel's men formed a rigid perimeter, their weapons trained on a lone figure.

Andrew stood motionless in his black tactical gear, his glacial stare cutting through the armed circle like a blade. The sheer intensity of his presence made the surrounding men shift uneasily, despite their numerical advantage.

Two bodies lay sprawled nearby, their blood seeping into the concrete. Their vacant eyes held the same stunned disbelief—caught mid-thought when death claimed them.

The sight of their fallen comrades ignited fresh fury in the remaining men. These weren't just hired guns—they were brothers who had bled together. Now, their collective rage focused on Andrew like predators scenting blood.

Daniel arrived, his face twisting with fury at the carnage.

"You think you can just waltz in here and start killing my men?" His voice trembled with barely contained rage. "You've got a death wish, Morgan."

Andrew's sharp features mirrored Isabella's, but where her eyes held warmth, his were twin pools of frozen darkness.

"Where is she?" His voice was deceptively calm, the quiet before the storm.

Daniel barked a laugh. "After all these years hiding in the shadows, now you suddenly care?" His lips curled into a vicious smirk. "Beg. On your knees. Maybe then I'll consider letting you see her."

A chorus of mocking laughter rose from his men. To them, Andrew was already a dead man walking.

Andrew's expression didn't flicker. "Bring her out first. Then we'll discuss terms."

Daniel's grin widened. "You're in no position to negotiate. My surgeons worked through the night—we took one of her kidneys. She's—"

A muscle twitched in Andrew's jaw. "Say that again." The ice in his voice could have frozen hell.

"What's wrong?" Daniel taunted. "Not so tough when it's your sister bleeding out, huh? You've spent years destroying my operations, killing my men without remorse. Now you finally understand real pain."

Andrew's hand moved toward his waist.

Daniel's eyes sharpened. "Try it. I dare you. But remember—your sister dies the second you pull that trigger." He gestured sharply. "Drop it. Now."

A dozen weapons clicked in response.

The standoff stretched, seconds feeling like hours.

Finally, for Isabella's sake, Andrew relented. He removed the pistol and kicked it across the concrete.

Daniel snatched it up, inspecting the weapon with satisfaction before nodding to a subordinate. "Bring her out. Let him see what his stubbornness cost her."

Minutes later, a gaunt figure was dragged into view.

Isabella moved like a broken marionette, her pallor ghostly against the dark stains on her hospital gown. Her once-vibrant eyes were swollen slits, the whites blood-red from endless tears.

When her captor released her, she collapsed like a sack of bones, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Andrew's composure shattered. "Isabella!"

She stirred weakly at the sound of her name, but couldn't lift her head.

"Happy reunion?" Daniel sneered, pressing Andrew's own gun to Isabella's temple. "Beg for her life. Or watch her brains paint the pavement."

Andrew ignored him, his voice breaking. "It's me—Andrew. Your brother."

Recognition flickered in Isabella's dull eyes. She tried to focus, but sixteen years had sculpted the boy she remembered into a stranger. Exhaustion won, and her eyelids fluttered shut.

Guilt ravaged Andrew. His protection had failed her.

He stepped forward—

"Move again and I splatter her skull!" Daniel snarled, finger tightening on the trigger.

Andrew's lips curved into a chilling smile. "You're the one who should be worried."

Daniel's gaze darted to the warehouse perimeter—and froze.

Andrew's men had silently surrounded the compound, their rifles sighted on every hostile.

"You bastard!" Daniel spat, swinging the gun toward Andrew.

The shot rang out as Andrew lunged for Isabella.