Chapter 687
Chapter 687:
Yelena’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the details—the loose ropes tied carelessly around the figure’s frame, and the way their head hung unnaturally low, as if afraid to be seen.
With a mocking laugh in her mind, Yelena made her move. This wasn’t Bella—she was sure of it. Her retreat had been a test, and the reaction of the impostor had confirmed her suspicion.
Yelena peered intently at the person. “Bella? Are you alright?” she asked, her voice calm and low.
The person didn’t respond, their body trembling slightly, seemingly paralyzed by fear.
Abruptly, the person stood up.
Yelena tapped her right foot on the floor and leaped back. At the same time, her left hand swiftly pulled out a small knife and hurled it at the person opposite her.
The knife whirled through the air, grazing the person before returning to Yelena’s grasp.
As she moved, bullets whizzed past where she had just been. Twisting mid-air, Yelena landed on an overturned table and, without pause, threw her knife again.
The blade sliced the man’s arm, causing him to wince and drop his pistol.
Yelena quickly kicked it away.
Now unarmed, the man was forced to engage at close quarters.
Yelena darted around the room, her movements sharp and deliberate. She used every obstacle to her advantage, her agility making it difficult for the man to keep up.
Every move Yelena made was tactically significant, balancing offense with defense.
The fight escalated, draining Yelena’s energy.
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Despite the strain, Yelena gritted her teeth and persevered. She knew she couldn’t afford to falter then.
A fierce determination blazed in Yelena’s eyes. Her attacks grew even more relentless.
Her punches and kicks came in a relentless barrage, like a fierce storm, preventing the man from getting close.
Then, Yelena spotted a hidden door slightly ajar, realizing Bella and another girl might be hiding there.
She knew she couldn’t kill the man just yet.
She engaged him, inching toward the door.
Her movements drew his fiercer attacks.
Yelena’s expression hardened. This man was a formidable opponent, the strongest she had faced that night.
She understood the urgency. The longer the fight dragged on, the more she risked. She needed to end it quickly.
Yelena intensified her attack, each strike bursting with energy.
Her moves were lightning-fast. A fierce kick followed by a scissor kick caught the man’s neck. With a sharp twist, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
At last, she reached the hidden door. A forceful kick sent it crashing down.
Without hesitation, Yelena slipped through.
The passage was narrow, cloaked in darkness, dampness, and mildew filling the air. Her senses sharpened, the sounds of her own heartbeat and distant footsteps heightening her alertness.