Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 251

Chapter 251: Demon in the Night

I jerked sideways and the shot tore the air apart near my head, a crack so close I could feel the bullet’s slipstream. My superior reflexes yanked me sideways, body weaving between obstacles like a machine running pre-coded maneuvers.

But another guard cut me off—submachine gun barking as he erupted from behind a generator. Bullets hammered into my back and shoulders, kinetic jacket soaking the impacts and sending ripples of force crawling over my ribs. It still hurt like hell, each shot a hammerblow in my chest.

"This is a fucking demon!" He shouted in russian.

I didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Two rounds into his chest, one into his face. His skull burst backward like rotten fruit under a mallet, fragments of bone and teeth spraying into the night.

Another one lunged at me by the building entrance, rifle rising too slow. I hit the concrete in a slide, feet-first, taking out both ankles in a shattering collision. His legs folded under him with wet crunches, screams high-pitched, ragged.

I rolled up, knife flashing. The blade punched into his kidney, twisted, and dragged free in a geyser of blood that sprayed across the wall. He collapsed shrieking, clutching at the slick ruin of his side as I left him to bleed out in the dirt.

There were more waiting—the last two, positioned like professionals at the entrance. One behind the frame, one locked behind a concrete pillar. Overlapping fields of fire, tight kill zones. They’d done this before.

But they made the wrong assumption—that I’d come straight at them.

Instead, I went vertical.

The wall became a ladder. Fingers clawed into mortar cracks, boots finding purchase on ledges. My body moved with the alien precision of downloaded parkour routines—push, leap, cling, climb.

Each muscle knew the rhythm before my brain could doubt.

The two guards never saw me vanish into the dark sky above them.

The wall ended under my palms and I vaulted up, rolling silently onto the flat roof. The night air hit cold against my sweat-slick skin, carrying the stink of cordite and blood rising from below.

The sniper was prone twenty feet away, cheek pressed to his scope, finger tightening on the trigger. His rifle was sleek, modern, suppressor glinting in the floodlight glow. He was calm, professional—until my shadow fell across him.

He jerked his head up, eyes widening behind night-vision goggles. Too slow.

I closed the distance in three strides. My boot slammed down on the barrel of his rifle, pinning it flat against the gravel. The knife in my hand punched down through his collarbone, burying to the hilt.

He screamed once, high and sharp, before I ripped the blade free and jammed it sideways into his throat. Hot arterial spray blasted across my face, the copper taste of blood painting my tongue. He convulsed under me, legs kicking, hands clawing uselessly at my arms.

I silenced him by driving the knife through the goggles into his eye. The crunch was wet, brittle, and final.

The sniper went limp, blood pooling into the rooftop gravel.

Shouts below—his partners had realized something was wrong. The two guards at the entrance shifted positions, scanning outward, rifles sweeping the kill zone where they thought I’d be.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify