Chapter 50: The Female Assassin, Evened Out

Owen slammed the car into reverse and floored the gas pedal. Tires screeched, kicking up clouds of white smoke as the vehicle hurtled backward.

Further down the road, Damien was also flooring the accelerator, silently praying to catch the fleeing car before its occupants could be rescued.

Suddenly, the sound of a high-performance engine reached his ears. Before he could react, a motorcycle soared out from the roadside embankment. In midair, the rider—a female assassin—fired a submachine gun.

Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness, bullets peppering the hood of Damien's car in a shower of sparks, momentarily slowing him down.

As the motorcycle landed, Damien shook off the shock and slammed the pedal to the floor again, resuming the chase.

The assassin continued shooting as she sped down the highway. One of the pursuing police cars was hit, flipping over in a violent crash. Damien's windshield cracked into a spiderweb pattern as more bullets struck his vehicle.

He hunched low behind the dashboard but refused to let up on the gas. Seeing the motorcycle's ammunition run dry, he straightened and smashed a hole in the shattered windshield with the butt of his gun. He aimed through the opening, ready to fire.

Before he could pull the trigger, he saw the assassin toss the empty submachine gun aside and pull out a hand grenade.

"Oh, fuck!" Damien cursed, frantically yanking the steering wheel.

The grenade's pin was already pulled. The assassin timed it perfectly, holding it for a few seconds before letting it drop. Gravity did the rest.

A deafening explosion flipped Damien's car into the air. It tumbled violently down the road, shedding parts and debris with every impact.

When Owen arrived, the female assassin was already there, parking her motorcycle beside his car. She flipped up the visor on her helmet and shot him a smug look.

"Two down, we're even," she said coolly. Without waiting for a response, she restarted the motorcycle and sped off into the darkness.

Behind them, a pile-up of wrecked police cars blocked the road, preventing any immediate pursuit. Officers poured out of their vehicles, some tending to injured colleagues, others sprinting toward Owen and the crash site.

Owen had no time to lose. He jumped out of his car and ran to the mangled remains of Bryan's Mercedes. Dropping to his stomach, he peered inside and saw Bryan and Amanda, both cushioned by the car's fully deployed airbags.

Owen fired a few shots to deflate the airbags, then reached in to check Amanda's pulse. She was alive, just unconscious. He thanked whatever higher power might be listening—Amanda had been wearing her seatbelt, and the top-tier safety features of the car had saved her life.

Bryan, meanwhile, was coughing weakly but conscious. He was already working on freeing himself from the deflated airbag.

Owen quickly cut Amanda's seatbelt with a shot and carried her to his car. After securing her inside, he returned to find Kim helping her father out of the wreckage.

Tears streamed down Kim's face. Seeing her father alive after everything was too much for her to handle. She sobbed uncontrollably, barely able to stand. If Bryan hadn't been so battered, she might have thrown herself into his arms.

"You alright?" Owen asked.

"I'm fine," Bryan rasped, steadying himself.

"Good. Get in the car. We need to move. Now."

As if to emphasize his point, a bullet struck the ground near them. Kim stopped crying immediately and helped Bryan into the vehicle. Owen revved the engine, leaving a trail of tire smoke as the car sped away.

Charles de Gaulle Airport

A sleek private jet taxied down the runway and lifted off into the night sky.

Inside, the three girls—Kim, Amanda, and Cynthia—sat huddled together, finally allowing themselves to cry freely. The trauma they had endured poured out in waves of sobs as they clung to each other.

Bryan and Owen watched silently from the side, letting the girls comfort each other before Bryan spoke up.

"Alright, kids, I need your attention," he said, clapping his hands gently. The girls gradually looked his way, wiping their tear-streaked faces.

"I know what happened was terrible," Bryan continued. "But it's over now. You're safe."

Amanda sniffled as Bryan pressed on. "That being said, Owen and I had to take... extreme measures to get you out. We killed a lot of people. Because of that, there's going to be trouble.

"You need to understand something very clearly: you cannot tell anyone about what happened. Not your friends, not your family—no one. The people involved in this are powerful. If word gets out, they might retaliate. And it won't just be us in danger. They'll go after your loved ones too. So the best thing you can do is forget this ever happened."

The girls nodded solemnly. Although Bryan had exaggerated the danger slightly, Owen agreed with the approach. The girls were young and naïve. A bit of fear might help them take the warning seriously.

"Alright, that's all I wanted to say," Bryan concluded. "We've all had a long day. Get some rest."

The tension in the cabin slowly eased as exhaustion overtook them. Within minutes, the girls were asleep. Bryan and Owen finally allowed themselves to relax as well.

Eight Hours Later – Los Angeles International Airport

The jet landed smoothly and taxied to the gate. Ten minutes later, Owen, Bryan, and the three girls exited the terminal.

"Mom!" Kim cried the moment she saw her mother and stepfather waiting. She ran toward them, collapsing into their embrace as all three wept with relief. Franklin, her stepfather, patted her back gently, whispering words of comfort.

There were no other family members waiting. Owen hadn't told Amanda's mother what had happened and didn't plan to. Cynthia's family was away on vacation and remained unaware of her ordeal.

The group had already agreed to keep the details of the rescue secret. Even Kim's mother and stepfather wouldn't know the full story.

Owen had also made arrangements for Cynthia. He knew a reputable drug rehabilitation center and had convinced Bryan to help cover the costs. Since Cynthia's addiction was still in its early stages, there was a good chance she could recover fully.

After a brief farewell, the group parted ways. Kim left with her parents, Cynthia with Bryan, and Owen took Amanda home. They had already agreed on a cover story to avoid worrying Amanda's mother.

As the sun rose over Los Angeles, Owen breathed a sigh of relief. For now, the nightmare was over.

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