Chapter 850

Marion stubbed out his cigarette. He had promised Debra he would quit smoking, but today, he relapsed. He had also promised her that he would stay away from the underworld, but just moments ago, he realized that laying down his weapons gave others the chance to put a knife to his throat.

“Do it,” Marion said calmly. His men swiftly moved in, apprehending all the security guards in the courtyard.

Inside the house, Kale rushed into Drake’s bedroom, his face etched with urgency. “Boss, Marion is here.”

Drake tensed up, not expecting Marion to have the guts to show up again. Footsteps echoed through the house, followed by the shattering of glass and ceramics.

“Smash everything,” Marion commanded, his voice hellish.

Drake narrowed his eyes, about to get up, when a bullet whizzed past his ear, drawing blood.

“Boss!” Kale exclaimed, but Drake raised a hand to stop him. Kale stood protectively in front of Drake as Marion appeared in the doorway, holding a silenced pistol that was still smoking.

“Would you like to do it yourself or let me do it?” Marion said coldly.

Drake sneered, “I’m not done living yet. Keep that offer for yourself.”

“Sir, all targets have been taken down,” reported a messenger to Marion.

Drake was unfazed. “Marion, is this all you’ve got?”

Marion raised his gun and fired without hesitation. Drake grunted in pain as the bullet tore through his thigh.

“Boss!” Kale rushed to grab the medical kit from under the table and began dressing Drake’s wound.

“Marion, you’re crazy!” Drake growled.

“This is just a scratch for you,” Marion said, aiming the gun at Drake’s forehead this time. “Want another?”

Drake’s expression darkened. Marion was known as an excellent marksman. If he wanted to, Drake would be dead the next second.

“You want to kill me? For Debra?” Drake spat, his words striking a nerve. “You betrayed me and did this for a woman. Marion, you never cease to amaze me.”

“Sir, don’t waste your breath on him. Let me take him out,” one of Marion’s guards offered.

But Kale, after dressing Drake’s wound, pointed his gun at Marion. “Don’t come any closer!”

Marion glanced at Kale dismissively. “You’ve got guts, but is your aim any good?”

Kale hesitated. Drake lowered his gun and muttered, “Well, Mr. Houston’s shot is faster and more accurate.”