"Bang—"
The gunshot sent a collective shudder through everyone present.
If anything happened to President Luther, none of them would escape unscathed!
"President Luther, look out!"
But Ramsey didn't have time to think.
Before his mind could even process the situation, his body had already lunged forward on instinct, shielding Sinclair from behind.
Scenarios like this—he had rehearsed them countless times since childhood.
"Thud!"
The bullet struck Ramsey square in the chest, and his body crumpled to the ground.
Sinclair turned swiftly, catching Ramsey as he fell.
From his coat, he retrieved a small black pill and pressed it to Ramsey's lips.
"Swallow it."
Ramsey obeyed, but as soon as he tried to speak, a metallic tang of blood rose in his throat.
"P-President Luther..."
"SHIT!"
The man cursed in frustration when he missed Sinclair.
The man was about to fire a second shot when a mercenary beside him blasted through his palm and dragged him out from under two corpses.
The man was a brown-haired man from Country E, his eyes burning with venom as he glared at Sinclair.
"You devil!
You've slaughtered so many of us.
The Count will never let you go—you'll burn in hell!"
Sinclair's gaze was frigid enough to freeze the very air.
"Flay him."
Just two words, yet they carried a brutality that made the blood run cold.
"You—"
The man's curse died in his throat under that stare.
A bone-deep chill seized him, as if he'd been thrown into an icy abyss, blades of frost scraping layer after layer from his bones.
Even his soul seemed to freeze over.
"Sir!"
Two mercenaries immediately drew their daggers, pinned the man to the ground, and drove the blade into his arm.
His scream was cut short.
Meanwhile...
"Boss Luther, I won't be able to stay by your side anymore.
Please... be careful."
Ramsey clutched his chest as he looked at Sinclair.
"Luke may not be as capable as me, but he's reliable enough.
You might want to bring him onto your team," he said, then sighed heavily.
"And my dad... I won't be able to take care of him anymore.
Please, in recognition of our family's loyalty to the Luther Family, make sure someone looks after him.
Also—"
The mercenaries surrounding them were visibly somber.
Hired at great expense by the Luther Family, they had spent the most time with Ramsey, their leader, and had long considered him a brother.
No one had expected things to turn out this way.
"My dad has feelings for Aunt Naomi.
My dad's too shy to say it, but I could tell.
I was planning to help them get together once I settled down myself," Ramsey paused to catch his breath before continuing.
"And... please apologize to grandpa for me.
I promised him when I was a kid that I'd stay by your side, protecting you and helping you manage Luther Corporation.
Now I won't be able to keep that promise.
And then there's Sonia.."
There was too much he wanted to say, and he wasn't sure where to begin.
"Finished?"
Sinclair's voice was eerily calm as he stared at Ramsey.
Ramsey froze.
"Mr. Luther.. what did you say?"
The mercenaries nearby all looked up at Sinclair.
"I asked," Sinclair repeated his words—a rare occurrence for him.
"Have you said enough?"
Ramsey felt an inexplicable pang of grievance.
"Boss Luther, I'm about to die young, and you won't even let me say a few more words..."
Sinclair's voice remained calm, but his dark eyes held an indescribable complexity.
"There'll be plenty of time to talk later," Sinclair said with a faint, enigmatic smile, his tone leisurely as he looked at Ramsey.
"Get up."
Get up?
Could Ramsey even get up?
The surrounding mercenaries exchanged surprised glances at these words. Ramsey himself was momentarily stunned.
"A gunshot to the heart... what 'later' could there possibly—" Mid-sentence, a sudden realization struck him.
Ramsey moved his hand away and looked down at the spot where he'd been hit.
The others followed his gaze.
The bullet had only pierced the surface, failing to penetrate any deeper.
Clearly, something had blocked it. That's right.
Before leaving, Madam had insisted he wear this bulletproof vest.
Confirming that he'd only suffered a superficial wound, Ramsey exhaled deeply, overwhelmed by the relief of having narrowly escaped death.
"Thank heavens, and thank you for saving my life, Madam."
With Ramsey unharmed, the somber mood among the others dissipated, replaced by teasing glances directed his way.
Ramsey himself felt a pang of embarrassment.
After all, the memory of his earlier "last words" was still fresh in everyone's minds.
Sinclair rose to his feet, his gaze settling on the man being flayed alive.
The faint smile on his lips vanished without a trace. "It's getting late.
Make it quick."
With that, he turned and strode out.
Ramsey didn't follow immediately.
Clutching the wound on his chest, he shot a low, warning glance at the men nearby.
"You didn't hear any of what I said earlier, right?"
"What?
You mean the part about asking Boss Luther to take care of Sonia?
Or the part about Uncle Carlos having a crush on Aunt Naomi?"
One of the mercenaries, a close friend of Ramsey's, immediately chimed in with a grin.
"Relax, Ramsey.
We didn't hear a thing.
Not a single word."
The others nodded in agreement, smirking. "Yep, totally deaf over here."
Ramsey: "We'll settle the score with you when this is all over."
Ramsey feigned anger.
"This isn't our turf—clean up thoroughly.
Leave no loose ends."
At the mention of serious business, the others straightened up, their expressions turning grave.
"Understood!"
Ramsey clutched his chest, then hurried in the direction Sinclair had gone.
No matter what, today he had narrowly escaped death.
Lucky enough. Inside the car, Sinclair held his phone to his ear.
"President Nolan, it's time to move."
"So soon?"
Nolan couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.
"Are you certain, President Luther?
The entire Nolan family is at stake here."
"I never act without certainty," Sinclair replied, slowly twisting the obsidian ring on his finger, his voice so quiet it was almost imperceptible.
Nolan remained silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Alright, I'll give the orders immediately."
Taking action against the Hill family meant openly declaring opposition to Luna.
Success would propel the Nolan family forward.
Failure could cost them everything.
Sinclair didn't respond, simply ending the call.
His dark, narrow eyes fixed on the window, shadows swirling in their depths.
Everything was about to come to an end.
"Earl," A man entered with a grim expression, his body so tense it seemed almost rigid.
Easton set aside the documents in his hand, lifting his teacup as he glanced up at the newcomer.
"Dead?"
The man stiffened further, his posture rigid as a board.
"My apologies, Earl—" Easton understood immediately.
His hand froze mid-air, his piercing gaze locking onto the man before him.
"Failed?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone left no room for doubt.
"That man is too cunning.
Our men waited until he was retreating after dealing with the Harrison and Algrea families before making their move.
But it was a trap—"