Five Years Wasted Now They Beg Her Back novel Chapter 423

Grace felt a fountain pen in her pocket.

It was a gift from Dorian on her twentieth birthday—a modified self-defense pen.

A dark figure lunged from the side, trying to attack Damien from behind.

Grace broke free from Damien’s embrace, uncapped the pen, and stabbed it into the man’s thigh.

*Thwump.*

The sharp tip buried itself deep in the man’s thigh, severing the artery in a spray of crimson.

Blood spurted out, and the man screamed as he collapsed to the ground.

Damien turned to see Grace, her hands covered in blood.

“Damien,” Grace panted, standing back-to-back with him. “I’m not helpless, either.”

“Good.”

A wild smile spread across Damien’s lips. “Then let’s show them what we can do as a team.”

The smoke began to dissipate.

The main doors of the auditorium were violently smashed open from the outside.

Two squads of heavily armed men stormed in.

The group on the left wore black uniforms with the Nemesis Group Inc. logo.

The group on the right were elite enforcers from The Shepherd.

Now, with the remaining fanatics from the “Pure Human Front” and Melissa’s guards, the stage was a powder keg.

“This is…” Grace couldn’t help but mutter, “This is insane!”

The old man glanced at the Pure Human Front members scattered on the floor and sneered. “A bunch of useless thugs who can only shout slogans.”

He turned to Damien. “You’re skilled, Mr. Clarke. But you’re outnumbered. Look around you. Do you really think you can protect her?”

Dozens of dark gun barrels were aimed squarely at the center of the stage.

Damien scoffed, pulling a silver Desert Eagle from the small of his back and casually wiping the barrel.

“You can try, old man.”

“Let’s see what’s faster—your bullets or my bomb.”

Damien snapped his fingers.

Felix and his men appeared on the second-floor gallery, each holding a detonator.

“I had a few things planted in the foundation of this conference center,” Damien said with a maniacal grin. “A little last-minute addition. With a flick of my finger, we all go to hell together.”

“I’ve got my wife with me, so it’s no loss. What about you?”

The old man’s expression changed.

Damien was a complete madman! Who plants explosives in a building they’re about to enter?

The Shepherd’s agent’s face paled.

“Damien, you’re playing with fire.”

“Playing with fire?” Damien pulled Grace closer. “I’m fighting to survive. Now cut the crap and get out of my way!”

Just as the standoff reached its peak, the large screen behind them suddenly lit up.

The screen, which had gone black due to the power outage, now flickered to life with a live video feed.

The video showed the inside of a dim shipping container.

Dorian was tied to a chair, covered in blood, his head hanging limply.

Beside him stood a masked man holding a syringe filled with a blue liquid, which he held against Dorian’s carotid artery.

“A bomb is impressive, Mr. Clarke,” the masked man said, his voice distorted and grating.

“But if you dare press that button, or even take one step out of this hall, I’ll send this Dorian Hart straight to hell.”

“I know Ms. Hart doesn’t care about the brother who used to bully her.”

“But…”

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