Chapter 1248:
Another month passed, and Harleeâs strategies had effectively cornered Waylon. On one quiet night, Waylon was alone in his villa abroad. The groundâ¦
The floor was eerily silent, with windows wide open. Waylon sat on the living room sofa, methodically arranging his weapons. His focus remained on the task at hand, ignoring his subordinate who was relaying the latest failed plan from his laptop. After sterilizing the final dagger, Waylon snapped the laptop shut. He stood, daggers in hand, and moved stealthily into the night.
The villa grounds were unusually quiet, the usual delegation of guards and hired assassins eerily absent.
Opening the front door, Waylon spotted a familiar silhouette. A subtle smile appeared on his face as he returned to the living room, turned on the lights, and settled confidently into his chair to make coffee. He placed two cups on the coffee table, sipping from one.
Everything appeared peaceful.
But as he reached to refill his cup, a sudden flash left him holding only broken pieces.
âFinally,â Waylon uttered coolly, tossing the fragments onto the table and reclining in his chair, eyeing the arrivals casually. âMiss Sanderson, I was beginning to wonder how much longer I would have to wait for you to visit.â
LÉÏÑÑÏ cнαÏÏÑrs ðn gðªlðovÑlð .ð¬oð¶
Harleeâs expression was stern as she swiftly threw a hidden weapon at Waylon.
Waylon dodged it effortlessly, merely shifting his head aside.
With a swift motion, Harlee grabbed Waylonâs shoulder, pulling him from his seat with such force that he crashed to the floor.
Waylon was stunned by her strength and speed. He hadnât expected her to become this skillful in only four months. She had grown significantly more formidable than she had been in their last encounter.
Waylon reached for her shoulder, his hand snapping forward with lethal intent.
However, what he considered a fatal attack was trivial for Harlee. She easily dodged and countered with a devastating strike.
A severe blow to Waylonâs chest sent him staggering, coughing up dark blood as he fell.
âThis canât be real!â Waylon gasped in shock, unable to take his eyes off Harlee. âHow did you gain such power in just four months? Was it the poison? You must have poisoned it!â
Waylon was more willing to believe that Harlee had secretly poisoned him than to admit she had outmatched him in skill.
âHumph!â Harleeâs cold laugh echoed as she kicked Waylon, her disgust clear. âDo you honestly think youâre worth all this trouble?â
Inside the villa, the sounds of fighting reverberated through the halls. Rhysâ and Harleeâs men clashed with the ones Waylon had secretly stationed.
Rhys stepped forward, pulling Harlee into his arms with a concerned expression. âYou must be exhausted from the fight, darling. Let me take over. You can sit back and rest.â
After saying that, Rhys delivered a savage kick to Waylonâs stomach. The force of the blow caused internal injuries.
Waylon spat out another mouthful of blood, his mind reeling. He was stunned by how swiftly everything had spiraled in just four short months. The trap he had crafted with such pride had now become his undoing.
Waylon lay on the floor, unable to move. The villa grew quieter as the sounds of battle outside began to fade, the cleanup already underway. When Waylon saw this, he let out a derisive smirk and said smugly, âMiss Sanderson, you are still too green. Do you think you can beat me? Try again when youâre more seasoned.â
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