CHAPTER 907: CHAPTER 907 COUNTER OFFER

But her fear wasn’t for herself; it was for Xavier and Alexandre. If things broke out into violence, she couldn’t protect them. She was immobilized and vulnerable. Anxiously, she scanned the area, hoping to catch sight of her bodyguards, heart pounding harder with every passing second.

’What’s taking them so long?’ she thought, brows furrowing with unease.

The terrifying possibility struck her: what if there were more than just six enemies? What if her bodyguards had already encountered resistance somewhere else and were now engaged in their own fight?

"What? Waiting for your bodyguards?" one of the men sneered as they strolled leisurely toward Hera’s group.

Hera instantly stiffened. That single line answered the question that had been gnawing at her, as if they’d read her mind. Her bodyguards were indeed missing, likely caught in combat elsewhere.

They are currently in a three-against-one fight, too overwhelmed to call or alert her and Xavier that they’d been severely delayed. They were fighting in some isolated area, completely out of reach. Hera felt the realization settle like ice in her chest.

These men... they weren’t bluffing.

Their confidence wasn’t just arrogance; they had come prepared. A setup. They had planned this encounter, knowing she’d be vulnerable. Her heart skipped a beat, fear lancing through her, not for herself, but for Xavier... and Alexandre.

She felt like deadweight. Powerless. And if she dared to make a move, if she so much as tried to call for help, they’d stop her. She was sure of it.

Her hands clenched by her sides, but she forced herself to stay still. She couldn’t act rashly. Not now. Her instinct screamed inside her head that these people had no intention of letting this chance slip away.

"What do you want?" Hera asked, though she already knew the answer. The question was pointless, a stall tactic, nothing more. She didn’t care for their reply, she only needed time. Just a few precious seconds, enough for their people to clean up the fight on their end and rush to her side.

"Oh?" The man who appeared to be their leader took a step forward, his tone mocking. "You think stalling will save you?"

He moved into the light, revealing a black wolf tattoo etched along his neck. Then he laughed, a jagged, manic sound that made Hera’s blood run cold. The moment his laughter twisted into bloodlust, radiating off him like heat, she knew.

He wasn’t just some thug.

He was an assassin, a professional, and a lethal one. Hired to finish her off.

Cold sweat gathered at the small of her back. She wasn’t as deeply embedded in the underworld as Luke, but she knew enough to recognize the signs. These weren’t random mercenaries. Assassins like these were sourced from the darkest corners of the black market, recruited off the dark web, trained killers from every corner of the globe.

The leader had a Russian accent. The man flanking him was Black, another had East Asian features, and the rest were just as varied. Possibly from the same syndicate or sect.

"Don’t be scared, little one. Come quietly, and we might let you live... for an hour longer," one of the men sneered from behind the leader. His gaze raked over Hera with disgusting hunger. "We’ll have our fun first, of course... kekeke."

His sick laughter grated in the air like nails on glass.

He didn’t care that Hera was injured, her arm in a cast. In fact, he seemed to revel in her vulnerability. She was beautiful, and to him, and the others, she was nothing more than prey. Easy, helpless, and something to be toyed with before the kill.

From the twisted glints in their eyes, it was clear they all agreed.

Xavier’s jaw clenched, rage flaring in his chest like wildfire. They were looking at his woman like she was a piece meat. Speaking as if he wasn’t even there. Mocking him and disrespecting him.

He stepped forward, voice sharp and cold as steel."Say one more word about her..."

Because to Xavier, this wasn’t just an insult.

It was a death sentence.

But no one took Xavier seriously.

The assassins were clearly ready to strike, their movements loose and confident, like wolves circling a wounded prey. Sensing the tension escalating, Hera seized one last chance to stall. Her voice was calm, sharp with intent.

"Tell us how much they paid you... and we’ll offer ten times that amount."

She didn’t hesitate. No bluff. No flinch.

She dropped the bomb without blinking.

Anyone could double a price to tempt a mercenary, but Hera went straight for the kill. If they were offered a million to eliminate her, she just countered with ten million. That wasn’t just a bribe, it was a challenge.

Temptation flickered across a few faces. They weren’t worried about being turned in to the police, after all, they were already internationally wanted, with multi-million-dollar bounties on their heads. This was just another job to them. One million was barely the floor. If their original pay was ten million?

Then Hera’s offer would skyrocket it to a hundred million.

Even Xavier shot her a surprised glance. She made the offer like it was pocket change. Like she already planned for every outcome.

And maybe... she had.

And sure enough, Hera’s offer hit its mark.

The assassins froze. Their smug grins, their crude, lecherous laughter, it all vanished in an instant. The air shifted. For the first time, they were looking at Hera not as prey, but as a player at the table.

Her words had struck a nerve.

They exchanged glances, silent and calculating. The group they brought was large, overkill even, because they’d assumed this hit would be more complicated than usual. Hera was always surrounded by bodyguards, and she had both Xavier and Alexandre at her side. This wasn’t supposed to be easy, and they knew it.

And then there was Alexandre.

A man like that. One with a name and with a powerful family behind him. One they all recognized.

It would be a lie to say they didn’t know who he was, his reputation preceded him. And they also knew the price of crossing someone like him. If Alexandre got involved, if he was injured, or worse, killed, then the Arnaults would unleash hell.

Even assassins had a line they didn’t dare cross.

And suddenly, this mission didn’t seem so clean-cut after all.

Hera’s offer hung in the air like a slab of meat in front of starving wolves, impossible to ignore, and dangerously tempting.

If they were only offered somewhere between one to ten million for the hit, and with more than a dozen of them in the group, then each man would walk away with less than a million. For assassins of this caliber, that was pocket change. They didn’t move like small-time killers; they were too organized, too confident.

Hera could easily guess the price on her head was closer to ten or twenty million. And if the person who ordered her death truly wanted her gone, they would likely grit their teeth and pay that sum, no matter how high, just to finish the job.

There was a code among assassins, accept a mission, complete the mission. It wasn’t just their creed; it was an unspoken rule across the dark web.