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Chapter_106
“Mr. Chavez, something’s off,” Emmett said, his voice laced with unease. The men exchanged tense glances. There was something strange about the situation.
When Jeremiah arrived with Emmett and his men, the mansion was brightly lit, but the eerie silence felt unnaturally heavy. Emmett hesitated, unsure what to do next. “Mr. Chavez, we—”
Jeremiah raised his hand to signal silence, his expression cold. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice sharp and chilling in the stillness of the night. “Let’s go in. Someone’s been here before us.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped calmly into the mansion.
Emmett immediately signaled for a few subordinates to follow closely behind as they entered the mansion. The front door was open, and they moved through it like they owned the place. In reality, everyone inside the mansion had been knocked out by the “Drunken Beauty” drug and wouldn’t wake up for hours.
As soon as Jeremiah and his men stepped inside, they saw a man in a black suit slumped over a table near the front entrance. Emmett motioned for his subordinate to check it out. A burly man with thick eyebrows and a bulletproof vest stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate.
He pulled out his gun and prodded the man’s head with the barrel. There was no response. The man then checked for signs of life, feeling for a pulse. “Mr. Chavez,” he said after a moment, his voice serious. “This man is still alive, but he’s been drugged. He won’t wake up for several hours.”
Jeremiah nodded, his gaze unwavering, calm in the face of the uncertainty. “Okay.”
The group moved deeper into the mansion. Emmett pushed open the door to the next room, which creaked as it swung inward. They proceeded cautiously, guns drawn, prepared for anything. Whoever had broken into the mansion could be a friend or a foe, and no one dared to relax their guard.
The interior of the mansion seemed undisturbed, with no signs of struggle. However, as they moved through the house, they saw people lying unconscious everywhere—on the couch, on the carpet, even on the kitchen floor. Their faces were peaceful, uninjured, as if they had simply fallen asleep. It was eerie. Too eerie.
Emmett nudged a person lying on the couch and checked their breathing. He confirmed they were unconscious but alive. He and the others began to scout the area before returning to Jeremiah, their expressions grim. “Mr. Chavez, everyone inside has been drugged, just like the ones outside. Whoever did this is very skilled—we can’t find any trace of what they used.”
Emmett’s voice was thick with worry. They’d been monitoring Caleb’s mansion closely. In the few hours they had pulled back to regroup, everyone inside had been incapacitated. To knock out so many people in such a short time was no easy feat.
He had checked the scene thoroughly but couldn’t find any evidence of where the drug had been administered. The most logical conclusion was that the drug had been spread through the food. But when he looked into the kitchen, he found no signs of cooking.
A woman was still holding washed vegetables, clearly knocked out before she could even begin to prepare the meal. This meant the drug hadn’t been in the food. It had likely spread through the air. But no drug in the world was known to have such potency. This was no ordinary enemy. The most dangerous ones were those who lurked in the shadows.
Jeremiah listened silently, his expression unreadable. After a pause, he spoke calmly, “Let’s go upstairs. It’s likely that someone’s already dealt with Caleb for us.”
Emmett and the others exchanged shocked glances. Did this mean Caleb was already dead?
Jeremiah was the first to ascend the stairs. As he passed by a man with rugged features lying unconscious on the floor, he didn’t hesitate to kick him down the steps, continuing his way up as if nothing had happened.
Emmett glanced at the man who had been kicked. He immediately recognized him—a henchman of Caleb’s, known for his involvement in drug deals and countless other criminal activities.
When Jeremiah reached a bedroom on the second floor, he was hit with the unmistakable smell of blood—sharp and pungent. He paused, his expression grim, the cold glint in his eyes betraying nothing of the emotions swirling within him.
“Except for Emmett, the rest of you—find the people we identified in the reports and kill them,” he ordered flatly. The word “kill” carried with it an air of finality, sending a chill down the spines of everyone in the room.
The men responded in unison, moving downstairs to purge Caleb’s most loyal and corrupt followers—the ones who had aided him in trafficking drugs, enslaving people, and committing countless atrocities. Their deaths would rid the world of more evil.
With Caleb and Bradley gone, the Kerton family’s power was effectively dismantled. Caleb still had a few illegitimate sons, but without their father’s leadership, they would soon be embroiled in fighting amongst themselves.
Emmett pushed open the bedroom door. What greeted them was the sight of Caleb’s corpse lying on the floor, his body stiff and unnaturally contorted. His face was ghostly pale, and his fingers were bloodied from scratching at the floor in his final moments.
His eyes were wide open in terror, frozen in an expression of agony. The floor around him was stained with blood where he had clawed at it in his final moments of pain. It was clear—Caleb’s death had been excruciating.
Jeremiah walked over to Caleb’s body, crouching beside him. He stared into Caleb’s wide, unblinking eyes, scanning his body for any signs of a struggle. There were no visible wounds, yet the blood was unmistakable.
His gaze hardened as he examined Caleb’s wrists and chest more closely. Sure enough, he found tiny, nearly invisible needle marks. Caleb had been killed by silver needles.
The person who had killed Caleb wasn’t just an expert in poisons but also a skilled practitioner of ancient martial arts. To embed needles so deeply required a level of mastery few possessed.
Jeremiah stood up and surveyed the room. His eyes landed on a window to the south, and for a long moment, he fell silent, lost in thought. Then he spoke, his voice calm but carrying an underlying edge. “Let’s go back.”
Emmett nodded stiffly. The night had unfolded differently than he expected. He had prepared for a bloody battle, but someone else had already done the work for them. It felt strange, but the outcome was undeniably beneficial.
Jeremiah and his men returned to the hotel around 3 a.m. Emmett had originally booked a flight for 2 p.m., but after the addition of Yvette to their team, he changed it to 3:30 p.m.
It was too late to wake Yvette, so Jeremiah stood quietly outside her door for a few minutes before heading to his own room.
Inside, Yvette hadn’t slept a wink. She stared blankly out the window as the hours passed, her mind trapped in a cycle of bloody, violent dreams. Another sleepless night. Another morning without peace.
