Regret Came Too Late (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 441

Grace slammed the gas pedal to the floor. She'd never driven this fast in her life.

When she reached Ed's little villa, she jumped out of the car and sprinted toward the entrance.

The cars that had been following her screeched to a stop nearby. The men inside hadn't expected her to stop here. They were grinning now—Grace had walked straight into their trap. This was it. They'd finish her that night and earn their pay.

Grace punched in the door code, burst inside, and immediately felt arms wrap around her.

"Ed?" she called out.

"Yeah."

She patted his back lightly. "Do you have any weapons in here?"

"I do. I got two guns from The Obsidian. But it's dangerous. I've never used them."

The Obsidian was basically a lawless zone, so getting a gun there wasn't exactly hard.

And right now, that was exactly what Grace needed.

She said, "Alright. Give it to me."

He opened the drawer beside him and handed her the gun, then quickly shifted behind her, almost instinctively.

Grace glanced over her shoulder, catching on.

"Are you scared?" she asked.

"Yeah. Am I not allowed to? You can protect me."

Her mind was racing as she cracked the door open just a sliver. "It's not that. Actually, this is kind of exciting. Stay inside. I'll go scare them off and be right back."

With that, she opened the door and stepped out.

There were about eight of them, each one holding a metal pipe or something close to it, shouting crude threats without restraint.

"Grace, hiding here won't save you. We're on a mission tonight. Come out now, and maybe we won't mess up your corpse too bad."

The others burst into laughter. To them, Grace was already finished, cornered and helpless.

Grace calmly loaded a round into the chamber and fired.

The bullet flew past the loudest one of the group, grazing his cheek and leaving a sharp line of blood in its wake.

For a moment, they were stunned. None of them had expected her to have a gun, let alone fire it.

Some started to back off. The payout had been generous, but not enough to die for.

But the man with the bloody cheek sneered, wiping his face roughly. "She's putting on a show. That gun's probably almost empty, and she clearly doesn't know how to use it. If she did, I'd have a hole between my eyes right now."

The others seemed convinced. In an instant, they rushed at Grace.

Three quick shots rang out, and the men dropped one by one, all hit in the legs. The impact forced them to their knees, groaning in pain.

Their expressions shifted from arrogance to raw fear. She wasn't bluffing or guessing. She knew exactly what she was doing—and she'd hit them in the legs on purpose.

Grace stepped out slowly from under the awning, gun still steady in her hand. She couldn't help but wonder—how was she this good with a gun? Had she used one before? Why did it feel so natural?

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