Chapter 170
“This is it, Joseph,” Mark’s voice came through the speakerphone, a mysterious excitement in his tone that Joseph couldn’t perceive. “There’s nothing stopping you now, head towards that peak, Joseph.”
The moon outside was so bright, hanging high in the gray-blue sky, generously casting its light upon the vast expanse of land.
Joseph rode in a car from the port to the top-floor apartment in the city center to “visit” the “mad” Alajos as mentioned by the bodyguard.
The mess downstairs had already been cleaned up diligently by the bodyguards, with the new cook yet to arrive. Luzia had simply eaten two slices of bread and retreated to her room, not coming out again.
The bodyguards paid no attention to Luzia, seeming to never consider her as a valuable person in Joseph’s eyes.
Joseph crossed the living room and went straight upstairs to Alajos’s room.
It was late at night, and the room was not lit.
Joseph entered the room without locking the door, while the bodyguards stood outside, their sharp eyes fixed on the man sleeping in bed, muscles tense, minds alert, prepared for any unexpected incidents at any moment.
But what they expected madness, attack, and unforeseen events did not occur. Alajos seemed to truly be asleep, peacefully wrapped in the moonlight, sound asleep.
A scoff escaped Joseph’s throat as he disregarded the worried gazes of the bodyguards and walked into the room, his hawk-like gaze locked on Alajos.
“I know you’re awake, Alajos,” Joseph approached the bed step by step. “You’re putting on this madness act just to see me, aren’t you? Well, here I am.”
“Let me guess, you want to talk to me about the fight with Bratva? My next plan? Or Vivian?”
No one answered Joseph’s words in the silent room. He was like a clown on the stage, singing a soliloquy lost in his own world.
But Joseph heard it, Alajos’s slow breaths in the darkness quickening at the mention of Vivian’s name.
A determined smile curved Joseph’s lips, his disdain for Alajos seemingly ingrained in his very being. He fell into his father’s trap, falling in love with Vivian, making her more important than power.
Alajos Hargrave, his once sole adversary, the man standing at the pinnacle of Houston, had become a love captive, no longer a barrier to Joseph ruling Houston.
Alajos Hargrave, from the moment he fell in love with Vivian, was out.
Joseph was now close to Alajos’s bed.
He forgot the distance for attacks his teacher mentioned in fighting class, so in the moment he thought he had won, his tense nerves relaxed.
Almost as soon as Alajos opened his eyes, he covered Joseph’s head with the blanket, as if he had rehearsed this move countless times in his mind.
As the darkness fell over him, Joseph’s first reaction was to raise his hands to shield himself. Alajos seized this opportunity to leap from the bed and kick Joseph back towards the wardrobe.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.
The bodyguards at the door also reacted quickly, rushing in the moment of crisis, but due to the small size of the room, only two could push in side by side, and then
“Bang, bang!”
Bullets pierced through the window glass, hitting the bodyguard at the front accurately.
Snipers!
More than one!
The bodyguards couldn’t determine the source of the gunfire, their footsteps hesitating. Joseph cursed under his breath and suddenly saw Alajos swiftly approaching with a weapon flashing with a cold glint in his hands.
Joseph straightened his waist, dodging the trap set by Alajos, his hands gripping Alajos’s wrists, forcing them down with a sharp turn
Alajos’s reaction was quick, the weapon in his hand changing direction immediately, continuing to strike at Joseph.
The two men, fierce as beasts, wrestled, and the bodyguards were trying to join the fray upstairs. This left the entire apartment’s security exposed, and Simpson, who had long been lying in ambush outside the apartment, signaled his men to storm in with Floren, machine guns blazing as they tore through the few remaining bodyguards downstairs.
Alajos’s attack was fierce, and he had a knife, making it difficult for Joseph who was barehanded. Alajos also used the darkness of the room to flip over the table and chairs, preventing the bodyguards from entering. The two were too close for the bodyguards to find a way to shoot without harming Joseph.
Seeing Joseph’s resistance weakening, Alajos forcefully pushed the blade towards Joseph’s heart.
Just as the blade was about half an inch from Joseph’s chest, he caught it with force.
“You truly surprised me, Alajos,” Joseph gritted his teeth through the pain of his palm being cut, breathing heavily. “I must admit my mistake to you you are not weak. Instead, you are cunning and crafty.”
“I don’t need your admission, I only need you to die!” Alajos exerted more force, the veins on his forehead throbbing.
Joseph’s gaze sharpened, as the blade was about to pierce his skin, he thrust his knee, fiercely colliding with Alajos’s abdomen.
Alajos grunted, loosening his grip as he staggered back two steps, but the blade still cut a deep wound in Joseph’s palm, leaving him with a matching injury.
Luzia hid in her closet, surrounded by layers of clothes, knowing that a battle was about to unfold tonight.
The sound of gunfire and screams outside the room continued, turning the once peaceful apartment into a hellish scene.
Luzia dared not guess whether the one to open the closet door would be Alajos or Joseph?
A loud noise came from the guest room on the second floor of the top-floor apartment, followed by gunfire. The rhythm of the gunshots was all too familiar to Alajos, it was Houston’s finest sniper, Emmert, carrying out his protective duties.