Read Novel Full Chapter 697: Igor’s Death
Chapter 697: Igor’s Death
Natalya’s face flushed crimson, her body coiling like a spring ready to unleash. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her fingers clenching the gun so tight her knuckles turned white. "Before you touch me," she spat, her voice a razor’s edge of pure, unfiltered rage, "I will kill myself."
Her hand didn’t tremble.
Igor just looked at her and didn’t reply or react...
Igor’s gaze flicked to me, his smile twisting into something cruel. "And you, Viper..." He tilted his head, studying me like prey.
"I heard you’re quite good..." His tone turned mocking. "First day on the job, yes? Surrender to me... Save yourself the trouble."
I didn’t reply to Natalya but looked at Igor.
Natalya’s eyes burned into me, raw, betrayed, filled with disgust. "TRAITOR!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
This bastard, Igor, wanted to rape the woman I like.
Rage exploded in my chest.
I spread my telekenesis, scanning the towers, the rooftops. Four snipers. Four necks snapping in unison, their bodies crumpling silently.
Now, only Igor and his men remained.
Natalya’s finger trembled on the trigger. She was going to do it. I lunged, grabbing her wrist, yanking the gun away. The shot rang out, wild, hitting the ceiling.
"Are you crazy?!" I growled, ripping the gun from her grip.
Igor misread it. "Good!" he laughed, clapping. "Smart choice, boy! Don’t worry, I won’t treat you badly... Haa. You made the best choice of your life!"
Natalya thrashed, beating my chest, her voice a venomous hiss. "Motherfucker! I will kill you!" She thought I’d betrayed her.
I didn’t fight back.
Not yet.
I nodded to Igor, playing along. "Bring her to my car," he ordered, grinning. "I’m going to have my honeymoon tonight... Good."
I hoisted Natalya into my arms, carrying her like a bride toward Igor’s car. She bit my shoulder, hard, drawing blood, hissing, "I will not let you go!"
Natalya’s body trembled in my arms, her breath coming in short, furious gasps, her fingers clutching the gun so tight her knuckles were bone-white.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, VIPER!" Natalya snarled, her voice a venomous hiss, her teeth sinking into my shoulder again, harder this time, tearing through fabric and flesh.
Her nails dug into my skin like claws, drawing blood, her body coiled with rage. "I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND GUT YOU LIKE A PIG!"
I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain, the blood trickling down my back. "Boss," I growled, my voice low, urgent, "just—"
"TRUST YOU?!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unfiltered rage. "AFTER YOU JUST HANDED ME OVER TO THAT PIG?! YOU SICK, ROTTEN TRAITOR!" Her eyes burned into mine, wild, betrayed, filled with a hatred so deep it cut worse than any blade.
"I TRUSTED YOU! I LET YOU IN! AND NOW YOU’RE HANDING ME OVER TO HIM LIKE SOME FUCKING COWARD!"
Igor’s men surged forward, guns raised, eyes scanning for threats. I wrenched open the back door and shoved Natalya inside.
The second she hit the seat, her hand flashed—a knife materialized from her jeans, lunging straight for my heart.
"Hmm," she snarled, her voice a blade itself, each word dripping with venom, "I told you I’d kill you... before I die."
The knife twisted as she yanked it free, my blood slick on the steel. I didn’t heal the wound using Healing Factor.
I let it bleed—let the crimson stain spread across my shirt, let the pain etch itself into my expression.
What better way to bind her to me than guilt? Let her think she’d broken something irreplaceable. Let her drown in the weight of it.
Her breath hitched as she stared at the wound, her fingers trembling around the knife’s hilt. For a second, I saw it—the flicker of horror in her eyes. But then her grip tightened, the blade flashing toward her own throat.
"No." My hand shot out, seizing her wrist before the knife could find its mark. My fingers dug into her skin, my voice a ragged growl, "Boss... close the doors. Now."
Her eyes widened—shock, confusion, something raw and unguarded. For the first time, she hesitated. But only for a heartbeat. Then she reacted, her free hand slamming the lock just as I kicked her back into the car and sealed the door between us.
Igor didn’t hear our conversation, but he saw everything. His lips curled into a grin, his gaze flicking between Natalya’s trembling form and the blood soaking my shirt. "This bitch is really cruel..." His voice was thick with amusement, his eyes locking onto mine. "Thank you, brother—"
I didn’t let him finish.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife, still warm with my own blood. In one fluid motion, I raised my arm and hurled it.
The blade spun through the air, a silver streak of death, before burying itself in Igor’s forehead with a wet, sickening thud—right between his eyes. His grin froze. His body jerked, as if caught in a spasm, then slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
Blood dripped from the wound, snaking down his face, pooling dark and thick on the concrete beneath him.
For a split second, his men didn’t move. Their eyes widened—shock, disbelief, the horrified realization of what had just happened. Then rage twisted their features. Guns snapped up. Fingers tightened on triggers.
I didn’t hesitate.
I sprinted toward Igor’s body, my boots pounding against the pavement. My hand closed around the hilt of the knife, and with a brutal yank, I tore it free from his skull.
The blade came away with a sickening schlick, Igor’s lifeless body toppling forward as if bowing to me one last time.
His men whirled, guns snapping up in unison. I didn’t wait for them to fire.
I moved.
The first bullet spat toward me—I twisted, the knife flashing in my hand as I deflected the round. The impact sent a jolt up my arm, but I was already pivoting, my own gun roaring in response. The shooter’s chest exploded in a spray of red. He crumpled.
Another bullet—this one closer. I blocked it with the knife, the blade singing as it redirected the shot into the wall behind me. Before the shooter could react, I lunged, driving the knife into his throat. He gagged, blood bubbling from his lips as he collapsed at my feet.