The 3 B's- Beauty, Brains and Bravery - Chapter 532
Castle Tryst, 05:40;
When the woman’s voice reached downstairs, the Six tigers were the first ones to rush up to her room, Xi trio later. Xi Yuan’s room was much closer to hers, so he followed shortly after the girl’s brothers arrived. But the second he saw his mother, lying on the ground, Rong Xinghe holding onto her wrist, checking her pulse, he felt his mind go blank. What…
“Mom!”, the man ran over to Li Jungah, an anxious expression across his face, “What happened here?”, he questioned no one, really. But for a second, he looked at Rong Xinghe, tears streaming down her eyes.
“I– I don’t know.”, the girl said, her hands and gown stained with the thick Red liquid, “We– we were just talking.”, she began to explain, only to be interrupted by the man.
“Is that your gun?”, Xi Yuan asked, his tone almost inaudible. Stunned, the girl looked at where her darling was looking, as the color from her face drained completely. It was hers, indeed. The Smith & Wesson Magnum, there on the bed, right next to the wooden trunk. But she didn’t bring it to their Wedding. Why would she? Though, what terrified her the most was him asking that question. Did he really think she would do something like that to his family?
But Xi Yuan could tell what her silence meant. It did belong to her. Inhaling a long deep breath, the man focussed back on the unconscious Li Jungah. He then pulled his phone out, dialing a number silently.
“I called the ambulance already.”, Rong Xinghe shook her head, placing her hand over her darling’s, cautious. But he did not look at her as he knelt down a bit, lifting his mother in his arms, “Fang. We’re taking the back exit.”, he said to his brother, his voice worn out.
“I’ll come with you.”, the girl said softly, following behind the man, as he turned around, both his voice and gaze distant, “Now’s not the time, Xinghe.”, he said, walking out of the suite alone. Moments after, Xi Chongkun climbed into the ambulance, along with his son. Xi Chonglin, and Luo Youyou’s car after them.
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Khalij Wedding Hall, Afghanistan;
04:35;
Asad Rehman picked up a broom as he started to mop the floor in the hallway adjacent to the Men’s Washroom, expecting to listen to another male voice from inside. Hopefully, Ahmed Ali Fadhil’s. But there was no one in there, other than Aftaab Ali, the supposed right-hand man of Lashkar ul-Mujahidin’s Commander.
About Two minutes later, Ali walked out of one of the many stalls, and towards the rectangular ceramic sink, so to wash his hands. As he listened to the sound of water flowing, Rehman let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, disappointed. So Fadhil really hadn’t shown up tonight. It would surely complicate things for the Hybrids, he thought. To hunt for a man who’d performed plastic surgeries four times to date. It was like aiming in the dark.
Just then, the young man felt something hit him. Hard, on the back of his head. An iron rod, probably. And as a blinding pain crawled through hir body, Asad fell down, turning to lie upon his back, attempting to have a peek at his attacker. Aftaab Ali!
Wasn’t he just a businessman? Or had he been the one wrong about him all along? He must be one of the terrorists, the boy deduced as blood dripped down his head, endlessly and speedily. He groaned, fear taking control of his mind now.
Aftaab Ali stepped forth a few paces as the young boy tried to move his body back in desperation. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice that spycam installed in your shirt button, huh?”, he cackled like a maniac, pulling out a pair of gloves from his right pocket, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it painless. Your death.”, he said.
“Urgh!”, Rehman groaned, tears slipping down his eyes as he watched the monster leap toward him, the white-gloved hands circling around his throat then. It was a matter of 4-5 minutes before the young boy’s breath finally stopped, hundreds of thoughts swirling in his mind before he went still. He wanted to meet her. Rong Xinghe. And beg her to rescue his sisters that’d been snatched away from him years ago. She would’ve definitely helped him. Of that, he was sure.
Aftaab Ali sat on his knees for a few more minutes, observing his motionless prey, his two fingertips pressed lightly against Rehman’s neck side. Only after he was sure there was no pulse there, did the man relax a little, ripping apart the button that’d had the bug attached to it. He then looked into the man’s pockets, and shirt collar, so to find any other sound recorder connected.
After flushing the portable button-sized camera down the toilet, Ali returned to the dead body in the hall. Quietly then, the man tucked his left hand into his inside suit pocket, retrieving a Black double-edged tactical dagger insouciantly. Leaning over Rehman next, he tilted his head slightly, effortlessly marking a bloody cross upon the boy’s forehead. And as he did so, his lips tipped up to one end, an appalling darkness evident in his gaze.
“Commander!”, Hasan Mir rushed towards the man, his eyes on the dead body, “Are you alright?”, he asked.
“Of course, I am. Deal with this body later.”, Aftab Ali said, dabbing the skin behind his right jaw with his napkin, “Meanwhile, I’ll get back to my nephew’s wedding. Alright?”
“Understood.”, Mir nodded, his tone utterly obedient.
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04:55;
About half an hour later, Jackson Marshal walked into the enormously lavish wedding hall, two of his team members following behind. Abram Orlov could not accompany him, obviously, for Aftaab Ali had, after a lot of efforts, finally began to trust him. They couldn’t risk blowing off that cover, could they?
“Here, Sir!”, one of the soldiers, accoutred into civil clothing, yelled from a distance. Marshal glanced at the man, striding toward him in urgency next. But as he reached the congested Storeroom, from the corner of his eyes, he saw the dead body. Asad’s body.
And with it, he noticed the ‘mark’. Ahmed Ali Fadhil’s mark.
“I need to talk to the Military Chief. Now!”, the man commanded, “And signal the central Military to fuel up one of the helicopter gunships for her, as soon as possible.”