Chapter 1695: The power of love

"No, it’s not them, sir. It was someone else."

The commander studied the man quietly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." The staff looked at the photos again, then met the commander’s eyes. "I’d know if it was one of them—but it’s neither."

"I see." The commander tilted his head, slipping the photos back into his vest.

As he tucked them away, he gave a glance to one of the men standing beside the chair before turning to walk off.

"Sir, I’ve said everything I know," the staff member said. "Please, just let me go—"

BANG!

The commander stopped mid-step and glanced over his shoulder. All he saw was a thin wisp of smoke rising from a muzzle behind the chair—and the staff’s body slumped lifelessly to the floor. Blood crawled out beneath him, forming a growing pool.

No one reacted. They’d seen this kind of thing before.

"Jonathan certainly found loyal allies," the commander muttered as he resumed walking out of the vault.

The men followed behind, leaving the corpse without a second glance. This underground space would serve as a tomb—at least until the stench began to rise.

As the commander stepped out of the vault, another man was waiting for him.

"Commander," the armed officer said, falling in beside him. "Our team found data on the owner of the club. It appears he fled the country shortly after the incident involving Jonathan Pierson."

The commander’s jaw tightened. News of Jonathan’s attack hadn’t even reached the public yet. Not a single article had surfaced—thanks to the Pierson Family’s efforts to shut everything down.

"Any footage of who accessed the vault before us?" he asked.

"All recordings from the relevant time frame were professionally deleted, sir," the officer replied. "Our team tried to recover them, but we were too late."

The commander’s expression soured. "That fox... seems he really thought of every angle."

There was a difference between deleting footage normally and having an expert wipe it clean. The latter made recovery difficult. Not impossible—but it would take time.

"Check other cameras in the surrounding area. Jonathan’s people wouldn’t have been able to control them all."

"We’re already on it, sir," the man confirmed, following one step behind.

"What about the group that followed the secret passage? And the team outside?"

"They’re close. We’re still waiting for updates, sir. But based on our estimates, we’ve figured out where the secret path leads."

The commander stopped and turned slightly. "Where?"

"To the street on the other side. Our men are already scouting the area."

"Good." The commander nodded and continued walking toward the exit, heading to where the passage likely emerged.

If their mapping was accurate, they could still intercept the intruders. The chances were low—but even a one percent chance was better than returning to their boss empty-handed.

Once the commander and his escort stepped into the narrow back alley—where several men were already waiting—another subordinate approached. He whispered something into the commander’s ear, who responded with a silent nod.

"Let’s go."

Moments later, vehicles pulled into the alleyway. The group boarded and made their way to the building connected to the suspected exit of the secret passage.

They stopped in front of a row of establishments. Among them: a love motel and a karaoke bar. The commander stepped in front of the motel entrance and looked to his right—where another team stood in front of a second building—and then to his left.

He gave a single nod.

With that signal, all three teams made their moves. The commander’s group marched into the love motel.

---

At the same time, in the underground passage...

CREAK...

The hatch at the end of the secret tunnel creaked open. The first man crawled up and scanned the area. Without a word, he stepped off the ladder and moved into the narrow space.

As the next person emerged, the first man raised a hand, flashing a few signals to keep the rest on standby. The space was too cramped for all of them to fit—two, maybe three could enter at a time. Any more, and they’d be restricted.

The second man gave similar signals back toward the hatch, instructing the others to pause. Meanwhile, the first man pulled his pistol.

He leaned against the wall, eyes locked on what he assumed was the door. His grip on the weapon was firm, muzzle pointed downward. The second man leaned across from him, and they exchanged nods.

Then, both turned toward the closed door.

The first man reached out and tried the handle—it was locked. Quietly, he took out a thin keycard and slid it into the narrow gap near the latch.

Tak...

The card clicked into place. He looked to the second man, who stepped aside to give him space. Glancing down, he spotted the rest of the team still at the hatch, ready to move.

The man backed up one step, raised his weapon—

BANG!

The deafening gunshot rang through the narrow room.

Before anyone could recover from the sound, he kicked the door open with force. The second man followed instantly, and the rest of the team scrambled out of the hatch and into the room.

At the exact moment the secret door—hidden behind a shelf—was kicked open, the main door of the motel room burst open from the other side. Standing there was the commander. One of his men tossed the motel manager aside after forcing the door open.

Two opposing squads. One room. Weapons raised, yet everyone froze.

The room wasn’t empty.

Across the bed, near the window, calmly sipping a cup of tea... sat the head of Homeland Security.

Mint glanced at the groups, cocked her head, and smiled.

"Yo."

The second the word left her lips, red laser dots appeared on every man’s body. Shouts rang out from behind them—"Police!"—echoing from the hallway and the secret passage. All the men who were expected to ambush other people froze, all aware of that crazy mad woman just drinking tea so leisurely and so smugly.

"Told you guys," Mint clicked her tongue and winked. "Should’ve killed me when you got the chance... but then again, the power of love keeps me alive."