Chapter 1164:

At her side, Brad mirrored her posture, a second sniper rifle braced firmly against his shoulder. His face was carved from ice, merciless calm etched into the tight line of his lips. They exchanged no unnecessary words — only the soft metallic clicks of cycling chambers, the muted crack of suppressed shots, and clipped whispers through their micro-earpieces broke the silence.

“Eleven o’clock. Corner position,” Rylie said quietly.

“Confirmed,” Brad replied.

“Providing cover. Reloading now.”

“Target acquired.”

Their coordinated fire eliminated every long-range threat, shielding the extraction team below and pinning the Mista Dunkadelic pursuers in place. Each pull of the trigger was swift and inevitable — fatal to anyone foolish enough to surface.

“Move! Get inside — now!” one of Deandre’s men shouted from the van.

𝗧𝗵е 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘁 𝗽о𝗽𝘶𝗅а𝘳 𝗇𝘰𝘷𝗲𝗹s on 𝘨а𝗹𝗇𝘰𝗏𝖾𝘭𝘀.c𝗼m

Shaking free of her brief daze, Karina reacted instantly, lowering her head and sprinting full speed toward the open vehicle.

Once she was safely inside, the team withdrew with practiced speed. Satisfied that no one had followed, Rylie hauled Brad upright, stowed their rifles, and vanished down the tower like ghosts dissolving into the city.

The fierce exchange of gunfire eventually drew a police perimeter, but by the time authorities arrived, both factions had evaporated without a trace. Not a single operative was apprehended.

The Mista Dunkadelic had not merely lost manpower — they had suffered the theft of a weapons shipment worth billions. Yet even that catastrophe paled in comparison to what came next.

When Henson finally reached the finance office, the godfather stood frozen in place, unmoving as stone.

At his feet sat an open silver-gray case — utterly bare, its contents gone without a trace.

They had gravely underestimated the depth of Karina’s fury. From the very beginning, she had stood beside Deandre. Every step, every gesture, every betrayal had been a carefully orchestrated deception. Whatever secrets were recorded in those vanished ledgers — if exposed — would tear the Mista Dunkadelic out by the roots, leaving nothing behind. From the aging godfather down to the most insignificant runner, no one would escape the fallout.

A criminal empire built over decades — cemented with blood and unimaginable wealth — would collapse under public scrutiny, reduced to ash in the open light. It would be carved apart by rival factions and claimed by the authorities as a monumental victory.

“Deandre,” the godfather hissed, the name dripping with venom and unrestrained hatred.

At last, everything became painfully clear. The missing weapons, the fabricated infighting, the deliberate show of weakness — it had all been nothing but smoke and mirrors. From the very first move, that young Eshean upstart’s true target had always been the Mista Dunkadelic itself.

“I nearly didn’t make it out alive,” Karina said softly. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did, everything would’ve collapsed.” She passed the ledger to Deandre, her eyes bright with expectation — clearly waiting for approval, or at least gratitude.

Deandre flipped through the pages with practiced indifference, scanning just enough to confirm its authenticity. Satisfied, he shut the book, locked it away in the safe, and gave a brief, silent nod to the aide standing nearby.

Moments later, four identical cases were set neatly on the table. As they snapped open, stacks of tightly bound cash filled the room — the sight both dazzling and cold.

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