Chapter 78: Chapter 78 Race to save life.
PRESENT!!!
Gunshots cracked in every direction, the air thick with sulfur as the battle between the thugs and Alexander raged on.
Alex, doing everything possible to shield Daniel, was riddled with shots—his chest, his stomach—anywhere the bullets could land. The only part he kept safe was his face, shielding it fiercely as though it were sacred.
"Alex, you’re hurt—this is bad! You’re going to die!" Daniel panicked, instantly regretting his craving for roasted duck. Maybe if he hadn’t dragged them here, Alexander wouldn’t be bleeding out in front of him.
"Alexander!!" Daniel cried again, trembling. "Draven too—he’s giving up!" Fear clutched his chest so tight it made his whole body shake.
Alexander’s face twisted when Daniel suddenly shifted his concern to Draven. Wasn’t he the one in critical condition? Why was Daniel thinking about Draven at a time like this—and how did they even know each other?
"You didn’t care to ask, but don’t worry. I’ve got a safety jacket—it shielded most of me. I won’t get mortally injured... except maybe my face." Alex grunted, blocking another round of bullets that zipped toward him and Daniel.
Daniel, still panicking, sought shelter behind Alexander’s back, his heart pounding at the chaos unfolding.
"Just lay low, Daniel—don’t come out!" Alexander barked, shoving him down while keeping himself between Daniel and the hail of bullets.
That gave Daniel the chance to crawl behind a huge rock—right beside Draven, who was still bleeding out, trembling as blood kept pouring.
"Oh God, no... this is too much." Daniel clutched his mouth, eyes wide in horror.
"Dan... Daniel... I—" Draven stuttered, his words broken by pain and violent convulsions.
"Oh my God, he might not make it!" Daniel’s voice cracked. "Draven, please stay with me! Don’t you die on me—don’t you dare!" He tried pressing down on the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but every attempt only made it gush worse.
"No, no, no—he needs a doctor. Alexander, please—do something! Draven can’t die..."
Six thugs suddenly pulled out daggers and hurled them at Alexander. He moved like lightning, twisting and dodging before his foot slammed into one man’s jaw with a crack. The thug’s teeth flew out in a spray, and Alexander didn’t stop there—his elbow smashed under the man’s chin, snapping bone and sending him crumpling.
"You don’t harm what’s mine—ever," Alexander thundered, his voice carrying both fury and possession.
Grabbing one of the daggers, he drove it deep into another thug’s arm, then wrenched violently until the arm tore free at the socket.
"AAAAHHH—my arm!" The man’s shriek echoed, raw and animal. He cradled the stump, realizing he was battling not a man, but something closer to the devil himself. Alexander’s speed and brutality were beyond comprehension.
The other four charged at once, but Alexander’s counter was merciless. His foot swung upward, delivering bone-crunching uppercuts that sent them flying, dazed and broken.
Still, the leader hadn’t moved. He watched, eyes gleaming, then glanced toward the rock where Daniel crouched, trying desperately to hold Draven together.
A chilling smile crept across his face. Slowly, he pulled out a massive hammer and a jagged dagger-saw. Flesh being torn from bone thrilled him—and today, Daniel and Draven would be his victims.
Daniel ripped another strip of fabric from his shirt, pressing it against Draven’s wound. For a moment, it looked like the bleeding slowed—but then it gushed again, spraying like a fountain. Shaking, trembling, out of clothes to spare, Daniel stripped the last piece of his lower shirt, leaving himself in tatters.
"Okay... okay, this has to work." His voice cracked with frustration as he pressed down harder.
Then—silence. The blood stopped... but so did Draven’s movements.
"No... no, no! Draven, please—don’t leave me!" Daniel wailed, something tearing deep inside him. He couldn’t explain why it hurt this much—why losing Draven, after what was supposed to be just a meaningless fling, felt like his soul was being ripped apart. Fear and grief twisted together until he could hardly breathe.
"NOOO! Alexander!!!" Daniel screamed. "Draven isn’t responding anymore!"
Alexander, surrounded by corpses—twisted heads, shattered arms, lifeless eyes dangling grotesquely—heard the anguish in Daniel’s voice. Something inside him snapped.
Dark veins spread across his skin, like sinister vines, his body radiating death itself.
Like a fallen angel of slaughter, Alexander stood among the carnage. The last two thugs gasped, choking like asthmatic patients at the sight of him.
"Send my regards to Lucifer," Alexander growled.
Before the nearest man could blink, Alex pounced and rammed a dagger straight through his skull. The blade split bone, cracking and tearing until his head slid clean off his shoulders. Blood sprayed, coating Alexander like a reaper bathed in gore.
The final thug froze, terror-stricken. He tried to run, but Alex’s dagger flew true, splitting the back of his skull open with a sickening crack. The body toppled like a felled tree.
But then—Alexander’s blood ran cold.
The leader stood behind Daniel, one arm clamped around his throat, the dagger-saw pressed tight against his skin.
"Gotcha," the man sneered. "Impressive fight... but it ends now." His eyes gleamed with malice.
Daniel’s entire body trembled. For the first time, he wasn’t just thinking of himself—Draven’s face burned in his mind, and the thought of him dying like this was unbearable.
With emerald eyes brimming with desperation, he looked at Alexander, silently begging for help. His gaze screamed louder than words.
The leader didn’t notice Daniel’s hand shifting behind him, fingers brushing against the steel of a dagger he’d hidden in his pocket. A gift from fate itself...
Alexander tensed, ready to move, but the thug tightened his grip. "One more step, and I slice him open—"
He didn’t finish. Daniel rammed the dagger straight into his groin, ripping through flesh.
The man’s scream tore through the night as his manhood hit the ground like butchered meat.
Daniel raised a trembling middle finger. "For Draven, you worthless animal."
Alexander didn’t hesitate. One clean gunshot ended the thug’s misery, his body collapsing with a heavy thud.
Daniel immediately shoved Alexander toward Draven. "Please—save him! I beg you..."
But Alex knew. The wounds were far beyond anything he could treat here. Without a word, he scooped Draven into his arms, his movements urgent but careful. Daniel, blood-soaked and shaking, followed close as they ran.
They spotted the thugs’ abandoned truck, and Alexander slid behind the wheel, Daniel clutching Draven’s limp body. Tires screeched as they sped toward the city’s main hospital—three men drenched in blood, carrying a life hanging by a thread.