Return of the Crowned Heiress novel Chapter 689

Having given his order, Pete charged forward first.

Facing three Special Operations Unit agents head-on, Pete quickly found himself locked in a fierce battle. The clash of offense and defense was chaotic, but his tri-edged dagger gleamed coldly, standing out sharply amidst the flurry of movement.

Seeing Pete fighting so ferociously, risking everything with no regard for his own safety, the robed man's earlier frustration toward him began to fade.

Although Pete had botched their plans repeatedly, costing them dearly, at least he wasn't abandoning ship now. Even in this life-and-death situation, Pete stayed to fight instead of running.

The robed man shook off his doubts and launched himself at the five agents advancing toward him.

The sound of clashing weapons echoed through the air, sparks flying as blades collided. Punches landed with sickening thuds, accompanied by grunts of pain. Occasionally, a spray of blood arced through the air as blades grazed flesh.

Meanwhile, the remaining five agents confronted the driver. Knowing he was outmatched, the driver still roared and charged forward, teeth gritted in defiance.

Pete wasn't faring well. Blood seeped from a deep gash on his arm, dripping steadily onto his elbow and mixing with the cold sweat trickling down his face. His once-pristine white shirt was smeared with blood and dirt, and his usually immaculate hair clung messily to his forehead.

The driver, distracted by Pete's struggles, shouted, "Mr. Carrell!"

That moment of distraction was all it took. One of the Special Operations Unit agents exploited the opening, driving a sharp blade into the driver's abdomen with a sickening squelch.

The driver felt a cold sensation in his abdomen. He looked down and saw blood pooling from the wound. The reality of it hit him only after the initial shock subsided.

He tried to fight back, but his speed had slowed down, and his strength was fading rapidly. He was already in a disadvantaged situation to begin with. Now, he had lost all ability to retaliate. Another knife thrust followed swiftly, sealing his fate.

However, out of the ten minutes Pete had promised the robed man, only three had passed. There were still seven long minutes until the rescue helicopter arrived. They had no choice but to tough it out!

The robed man let out a guttural roar, throwing off an agent who had locked his arm around his neck. He slashed two others with his dagger, forcing them to retreat. But before he could catch his breath, Pete let out a pained grunt.

Following that, Pete's body flew a good ten feet away before crashing to the ground. He was kicked hard by one of the agents.

"Pete! Are you alright?" the robed man shouted, fighting his way toward Pete's position. He moved defensively, keeping a close eye on the surrounding agents to prevent any sneak attacks.

Pete coughed several times and spat out a mouthful of blood. His face was as pale as a sheet, and he was too weak to get back on his feet.

The robed man was about to say something when he suddenly felt something being pressed into his palm.