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Chapter_186
The tension in the bar had reached a boiling point. Braydon Goodman, the infamous head of the most powerful crime family in Mysonna, had just entered the scene, and the atmosphere shifted from fear to disbelief. Despite his cold, imposing presence, the crowd was still confused, uncertain of his intentions. His reputation as a ruthless, untouchable figure preceded him, and they wondered why he would bother with a small gang like Tiger Head. But when Dorion, still struggling on the floor, cried out “Mr. Goodman,” everything clicked. Braydon Goodman was here.
Braydon’s eyes swept over the men lying on the ground, and a look of disgust crossed his face. They were insignificant to him, just pawns in a much larger game. Dorion, in his desperation, tried to crawl toward Braydon, dragging his wounded leg behind him. “Mr. Goodman, I’m Dorion from Tiger Head. This woman has hurt our people. Please do something!”
But Braydon didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he walked directly to Yvette, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the chaotic scene. The crowd, still frozen in place, was now realizing just how deep this situation went. Braydon Goodman—ruthless, powerful, and feared by all—had arrived, and the woman sitting casually with her phone, seemingly unfazed by the carnage, had some connection to him.
Dorion’s panic deepened as he watched Braydon approach Yvette. His mind raced: Was she with Braydon? Did she command the same respect, the same power? It didn’t make sense. How could someone so cold and calculating exist outside of his grasp?
Burley, who had been silently struggling to speak, could only make muffled sounds as he watched the two interact. The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone was waiting, anticipating what would happen next, unsure of whether Braydon was there to help Tiger Head or to wipe them all out.
Sandor, desperate to align himself with Braydon’s power, attempted to rush toward him, excited to find what he believed would be his salvation. But before he could even take a step, one of Braydon’s men raised his gun and shot him in the shoulder. Sandor fell to the floor, terrified, the pain in his shoulder nothing compared to the fear that surged through him. “Mr. Goodman, I’m from Tiger Head!” Sandor cried out in a panic. “This evil woman has gone crazy, killed Eban, and provoked us. We need to get revenge! Look at the men here, they’re all from Tiger Head!”
Braydon’s response was cold, his face unreadable as he signaled to one of his elite assassins. The assassin stepped forward, handing Braydon a sleek black gun. The crowd stiffened, all of them bracing for the inevitable bloodshed. But when Braydon turned his gaze to Sandor, the look in his eyes was filled with contempt. He raised the gun, pointed it at Sandor, and without a second’s hesitation, shot him in the forehead. Sandor crumpled to the floor, the crowd gasping in shock.
The silence was thick with disbelief. No one had expected Braydon to shoot Sandor instead of Yvette. The move was unexpected, and everyone knew what it meant: Braydon was not on Tiger Head’s side. The cold, calculating murderer they all feared was, in fact, protecting the very woman who had brought them to their knees.
Braydon’s voice was quiet but carried through the room. “What makes you call her evil?” His words were like ice, chilling those who heard them. His gaze never left Yvette, who was still sitting in her chair, lost in her game, unfazed by the brutal execution of one of her enemies.
The crowd was stunned. No one knew how to process what was happening. They had seen Braydon as an unstoppable force, someone who wiped out entire organizations without hesitation. Yet, now he was acting as though Yvette were his equal, or perhaps even someone more important than that.
Yvette, after a long moment, glanced up from her phone, meeting Braydon’s gaze. There was no fear in her eyes, only cold indifference. Her lashes cast shadows over her sharp features as she studied him for a moment, her face betraying no emotion. Braydon, in turn, seemed to lose his stoic demeanor entirely. His cold expression faded into something softer, almost vulnerable, as he watched her. The crowd felt an uneasy tension as the two locked eyes. For the first time, they realized that this wasn’t just a powerful crime lord and a random woman. There was history here—something deeper, something personal.
“Long time no see,” Braydon said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a strange intensity in his gaze, a silent longing that betrayed the cold exterior he had built for so many years. The words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and the crowd was left to wonder: Who was this woman to Braydon Goodman?
Yvette didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she went back to her game, her eyes never leaving the screen as she pressed a few more buttons, the sound of the game filling the silence. Braydon stood there, watching her, his face a mixture of longing and frustration.
The crowd was still processing the shocking events unfolding before them when Yvette finally broke the silence. She looked up at Braydon, her smile cold and sharp. Her voice was icy as she asked, “Braydon, what is the first rule of the Seventy-Two Chambers?”
Braydon stiffened, his fingers tightening around his gun. He had known Yvette was clever, but this? This was a calculated move, one that he had seen coming but had never fully prepared for. His mind raced as he realized that the situation was not as simple as he had hoped.
The first rule of the Seventy-Two Chambers was one that Braydon himself had broken. He had set up the entire drug deal—everything—to draw Yvette out. Eban and Dorion, who had thought they had found a new drug formula, had unknowingly walked right into Braydon’s trap. The whole operation had been designed to lure her out, and now that she was here, Braydon was left with a decision: to continue his pursuit, or to beg for her forgiveness.
“I didn’t know about the drug trafficking,” Braydon said, his voice tense, almost pleading. “It was my mistake. I’ll get rid of everyone from Tiger Head right away. Please, don’t be angry.”
The crowd, who had expected Braydon to act coldly and decisively, was shocked. His tone, his words—there was something almost… submissive about them. The once-mighty leader of the Seventy-Two Chambers, who had instilled fear in every corner of Mysonna, was now pleading with this woman as though he were nothing more than a subordinate.
Burley and Dorion exchanged nervous glances. They knew they were in trouble, but the weight of the situation had just grown heavier. Was this woman really Braydon’s equal? Was she more than his equal? What was going to happen now?
The crowd, too, was beginning to realize the depths of the situation. If Yvette had Braydon’s respect—no, his fear—what did that mean for everyone else in the room? Would they make it out alive, or would they be caught in the crossfire of this unexpected showdown? Fear gripped them as they waited for the next move, unsure whether the bar would become the site of another massacre, or the start of something even more terrifying.
