Matthew Vance reluctantly withdrew his right hand.
Sarah frantically wiped her tears, clutched her leather folder, and fled the office.
The sharp clack of her red stilettos echoed rapidly down the hallway.
Seeing the deliveryman suddenly barge into his private sanctuary, Matthew flew into a blind rage.
Thick veins bulged against his neck.
“Which company do you work for?
Give me your name right now!
I am going to have your boss fire you!” “You do not even know how to knock?
You are a stupid, pathetic lowlife.
You deserve to carry water for the rest of your miserable life!” The deliveryman did not reply.
He simply tilted his head up, two icy beams of lethal intent piercing through the shadow of his cap.
He gently kicked the heavy oak door shut.
In a flash of motion, a matte-black pistol materialized in his right hand.
It was a Browning fitted with an extended, custom suppressor.
The pitch-black muzzle was leveled directly at Matthew’s chest.
“What?” Matthew’s face instantly turned the color of chalk.
A terrifying chill shot up his spine, and his entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Wait!
Why is this happening?” Hayden stared at Matthew with absolute indifference.
He was already looking at a corpse.
Matthew forced a sickening, desperate smile and pleaded for his life.
“Do not kill me.
Please!
I will give you money.
I can pay you whatever you want!” “I am the eldest grandson of Arthur Vance.
I am the heir to the Vance Corporation.
You must have the wrong target!” Hayden ignored his pathetic begging.
His lips curled into a cold sneer.
Pfft!
Pfft!
Two suppressed shots coughed quietly into the room.
The hollow-point rounds pierced Matthew’s heart, instantly cutting off his words.
Matthew’s arrogant, domineering demeanor vanished entirely.
His expression froze in a mask of absolute horror as he slumped backward into his leather executive chair.
Hayden stared at the bleeding corpse without a single flicker of emotion.
He did not want to waste another breath on this scum.
Besides, this was only the beginning.
He pulled out his encrypted phone and snapped several verification photos of the body.
He captured the bullet wounds, the face, the retinal scan, and the fingerprints, uploading them all directly to the Assassin’s Guild secure server.
Once the upload was complete, Hayden grabbed Matthew by the collar and laid him face-down on the mahogany desk.
He positioned the arms to cover the bleeding chest wounds.
At a quick glance, the General Manager simply looked like he had fallen asleep at his desk.
Hayden calmly walked out of the office and pulled the door shut behind him.
He strolled casually through the bustling corporate floor.
He walked right past dozens of busy financial analysts, entirely blending in as a mundane deliveryman.
Hayden stepped into the glass elevator.
His phone vibrated softly in his pocket.
“Tier-8 Bounty Confirmed.
Target: Matthew Vance, General Manager of Vance International.
Status: Eliminated.
The 1.5 million dollars will be deposited into your account within twenty-four hours.” Hayden smiled faintly and pocketed his phone.
The moment the elevator chimed on the ground floor, a chaotic symphony of screeching tires erupted outside the lobby.
Three armored Mercedes MPVs slammed to a halt at the curb.
A platoon of heavily armed bodyguards in dark suits poured out and rushed the building.
Hayden immediately lowered his head, using the brim of his cap to shadow his face.
He brushed right past the surging security team.
He could hear the captain barking frantically into his radio.
“Move!
Red alert!
The VIP has just been listed on the open bounty board.
Lock down the executive floor and detain all suspicious personnel.” Hayden pulled his cap down a fraction lower.
A knowing, satisfied smirk played across his lips.
He quickened his pace and slipped out the revolving doors.
A sleek, silver BMW M4 was parked discreetly down the block.
Hayden slid into the driver’s seat and punched the ignition.
The high-performance engine roared to life.
He merged smoothly into the midday traffic, disappearing into the concrete jungle.
“Hayden, did you seriously already collect the bounty on Matthew Vance?” Valerie Quinn’s sultry voice crackled through his encrypted earpiece.
“The hit has barely been active for an hour.
Your efficiency is absolutely terrifying.” “That makes one Vance down,” Hayden replied.
He whipped the steering wheel, cutting the M4 through a gap in traffic and merging onto the ring expressway.
“I have to thank you for the live tracking,” Hayden continued.
“I will wire you your cut of the broker fee as soon as the guild processes the payout.” “Are you insulting me?
Do you really think I am worried a top-tier K6 professional is going to stiff me on the bill?” Valerie’s tone turned distinctly coquettish.
“Cash is so boring.
I have been working my fingers to the bone tracking these targets for you.
My whole body aches.
If a handsome expert wanted to give me a real, physical workout…” Hayden was caught off guard for a second.
He chuckled and shook his head.
“Let’s stick to business.
Flirting with my intel broker is only going to slow me down.” “What is the status on Marcus Vance?
Is he vulnerable?” Valerie clicked her tongue in feigned disappointment over the comms.
“I have no idea why you are so obsessed with that frat boy.
He practically lives in the VIP rooms of local nightclubs, surrounded by models.
He is an incredibly soft target.” “However, his father is a different story.
Richard Vance is a Tier-6 target.
He is currently in transit to the Rookwood International Theater.
He might be making a move soon.
If you take the expressway, you can intercept him in thirty minutes.” Hayden nodded, his eyes locked on the road.
“The grudge with Marcus is personal.
Just keep me updated on his movements.” As Hayden spoke, his gaze drifted to the rearview mirror.
A gray BMW X3 was aggressively weaving through traffic, sitting firmly in his blind spot.
His Wallhacks flared to life.
Three hostile red boxes glowed vividly inside the trailing SUV.
Suddenly, the X3 accelerated violently.
It swerved directly in front of Hayden’s M4 and slammed on the brakes.
Hayden stood on his own brake pedal.
The tires shrieked against the asphalt, leaving thick black streaks and a cloud of burning rubber.
Three men piled out of the blocking SUV.
They all carried drawn handguns.
Hayden kicked his door open and ducked low behind the heavy engine block of his car.
He peeked through the windshield.
It was the same trio of low-level hitmen he had seen gossiping at The Continental’s speakeasy.
The old man with the leather eyepatch grinned, speaking loudly to his partners.
“Matches the plates perfectly.
Registered owner is Hayden Brooks.
He fits the profile.” “This kid bought an M4 before he even graduated?
He must be loaded.
The car is going to be a nice bonus once we clip him.” “It is just a college kid with a massive bounty on his head.
This is going to be the easiest payday of our lives.” The three hitmen laughed greedily.
They fanned out, slowly advancing on Hayden’s position.
A deadly, freezing light flashed in Hayden’s eyes.
These scavengers were here to collect the Black Sovereign Syndicate’s open bounty.
They had clearly tracked him through his vehicle registration.
Hayden mentally banished his Browning pistol back into his spatial inventory.
In its place, the heavy, metallic bulk of a Winchester M1887 lever-action shotgun materialized into his grip.
He activated his Auto-Aim.
Rolling out from behind the engine block, he leveled the heavy barrel at the closest thug.
Boom!
The shotgun roared like a crack of thunder.
The devastating spread of buckshot hit the man point-blank.
Half of his shoulder simply ceased to exist, the flesh and bone vaporized into a crimson mist.
Blood sprayed into the air like a ruptured fire hydrant.
The thug was thrown backward off his feet, crashing dead into the asphalt before he could even scream.
The other two hitmen dropped into a panicked crouch.
Their minds completely short-circuited.
They never expected this supposedly helpless college student to be so terrifyingly ruthless.
“Damn it!
He has a shotgun!” the one-eyed veteran barked, cold sweat pouring down his face.
“What are you panicking for?” the remaining partner gritted his teeth.
“He is just a student, not a guild professional.
He just got lucky.
Flank him!” The two men split up, attempting to pin Hayden in a crossfire.
Hayden let out a dark sneer.
He seamlessly twirled the heavy shotgun downward by the lever loop.
Clack-clack.
The iconic spin-cock perfectly chambered the next shell.