Chapter 1249: Chapter 1249

Chapter 1249:

“Really?” Harlee’s voice was laced with cold amusement. She clapped her hands, and instantly, her people flooded the living room, surrounding Waylon. “Is this what you call losing?”

“No way! How is this happening? You couldn’t possibly win against me! Where are the dozen assassins I deployed?” Waylon’s voice was filled with fury, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Did you really think I was foolish enough to fall for the same trap twice?” Harlee smirked, her expression razor-sharp. “Wake up, Waylon. Today, I’m here to take your life.”

She raised her hand, signaling Robbie, who was standing behind Waylon. Without hesitation, Robbie fired a shot, the bullet slamming into Waylon’s thigh.

“Ah!” The scream that tore from Waylon’s throat echoed through the villa. “Does it hurt?” Harlee stepped closer and pressed her boot against his fresh wound. “This is nothing compared to the pain you’ve inflicted on my men. Shut the hell up!”

Harlee leaned down and, with a sharp twist, dislocated Waylon’s jaw. Seething with unrestrained fury, Robbie raised his weapon again and fired another shot, shattering Waylon’s wrist.

Waylon couldn’t muster the strength to lift himself from the floor, his limbs stiff as boards, his face drenched in sweat. Yet, not a single cry of pain escaped him due to his dislocated jaw, courtesy of Harlee. He couldn’t comprehend how the tables had turned so drastically. The person he had once manipulated like a puppet now had him groveling at their feet.

But deep down, the signs had been there all along. When his schemes mysteriously crumbled time after time, he should have realized it was Harlee’s calculated revenge. Still, his bloated arrogance clouded his vision. He had underestimated her. Worse, he had tried to trap Harlee and her allies again.

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The dagger Waylon had carefully polished tonight, intending to use it on his enemies, had ultimately been destined for himself.

But Waylon refused to accept this cruel twist of fate. After all his meticulous planning, he had been mere moments away from plunging Kovama into chaos. Yet now, he stared in disbelief at the hands of Harlee. How could he come to terms with this?

Anger burned through him, but with his jaw shattered, he couldn’t even manage a scream.

Harlee stood over Waylon, watching his every desperate move. She approached slowly, crouching down in front of him. Her grip on his jaw was firm as she snapped it back into place with a sharp click.

“Didn’t you want to prove your so-called love for Marisa? But as far as I know, it was you who robbed her of the very life you claimed to treasure. So, Waylon, don’t even think about clinging to anything tied to Marisa ever again!” With that, Harlee ripped open Waylon’s shirt, revealing the tattoo on his waist. Her fingers curled around the dagger, and with ruthless determination, she began to carve away the image of Marisa.

Waylon’s eyes widened in horror. Panic surged through him as he realized what was happening. “No… Stop! Please, stop…” His voice cracked. The pride that had once burned in his gaze flickered out, replaced with a helpless plea. Blood began to ooze continuously.

Through Waylon’s strangled gasps, Harlee continued to slice away at the tattoo.

Rhys had initially planned to handle it for Harlee, but she had refused.

This was something she had to do herself—for Marisa, for her former friends. Though Rhys despised the sight of her hands touching another man’s skin, he remained quiet, standing by her side. He gave her the silent reverence she had earned, honoring her resolve.

After finishing, Harlee motioned to Goodwin. “Keep him alive until Robbie fires ten shots!”

She tossed the dagger to Robbie. “Silence him permanently. He doesn’t deserve to utter another word about Marisa.”

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