Chapter 686
Chapter 686:
Inside the cabin, the atmosphere shifted the moment Yelena pushed open the warped wooden door. An oppressive tension filled the air, heavy and foreboding.
Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light, and within moments, she spotted the enemies lurking in the shadows.
They were clad in black leather suits, their grotesque masks adding an eerie edge to their presence. Each held a sharp blade glinting faintly in the gloom, and their eyes burned with greed and malice.
Yelena’s expression remained calm, her resolve unshaken. She bent slightly, her muscles tensing as she prepared for the inevitable attack. The first assailant lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air toward her heart.
The instructions they received had been clear—kill Yelena, no matter what.
But Yelena moved like lightning, twisting her body to avoid the strike at an angle that seemed almost inhuman. In the same motion, she drove her elbow into the attacker’s gut, sending him stumbling backward.
Before the first could recover, she spun gracefully, her heel connecting with another attacker’s jaw in a flawless kick, knocking him sideways. Yelena moved with deadly precision, her strikes a blend of power and elegance.
Each punch, kick, and elbow strike landed with unerring accuracy, leaving her enemies writhing on the floor. She fought as though choreographing a deadly dance, her movements fluid and seamless, every dodge and counterattack perfectly timed. Yelena used her enemies’ momentum against them, their own force turning into their downfall.
Her agility was breathtaking, her motions akin to a panther stalking its prey—silent, deliberate, and lethal.
When the last masked attacker crumpled to the floor, Yelena stood tall, her breath even and composed. To her, the skirmish had been little more than a warm-up. Her gaze swept over the fallen foes, void of pity. All that remained was cold disdain.
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Monica’s victorious smirk had vanished upon seeing this, replaced by a deep frown. “What kind of useless idiots did you send in?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the room. “A pack of incompetent fools p>
The bodyguard standing beside Monica kept his head low, afraid to meet her icy gaze. He had already hired top-tier assassins—professionally trained killers. Yet, even several imposing men had been effortlessly defeated by one woman. The result was both baffling and terrifying.
“Miss Mitchell, don’t worry! We still have one trump card,” he said, his voice unsteady.
Monica’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “This is your last chance. If you fail again, I won’t tolerate excuses p>
The bodyguard swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he replied, “Understood, Miss Mitchell p>
Inside the dimly lit room, Yelena approached a figure tied to a chair in Bella’s clothes. The person’s head hung low, obscuring their face, but something wasn’t right.
Yelena stopped abruptly, her sharp instincts alerting her to danger. A flicker of murderous intent flashed in the person’s eyes as soon as the tip of Yelena’s shoes became visible.
If only Yelena got a little closer…
However, instead of advancing, Yelena stepped back—slowly, deliberately.
Her retreat caused a ripple of unease in the room. If she kept backing away, she could slip away.
Yelena’s eyes stayed locked on the figure in the chair. A smirk tugged at her lips. Bella was vain to the point of obsession, always meticulous about her appearance and figure. And the person tied to the chair? They were almost twice the size compared to Bella.