Divorce Failed! My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 338

With Murray hit, the SUV lost control almost immediately.

The heavy vehicle rolled across the highway in a clumsy, violent tumble—over and over.

Murray was thrown from the car.

His head struck the asphalt. Warm blood flooded his vision, turning everything red.

Only one thought remained.

"This is it."

The bullet had gone through his heart. He didn't have long.

And Miss Vance was still inside the vehicle.

These weren't random thugs. They'd come prepared, and they were here to kill her.

Where was Mr. Andres?

He could die—it didn't matter.

But if Miss Vance died… would Mr. Andres blame him for failing his duty?

As Murray lay on the roadside like a corpse, waiting for death to close its hand around him, something moved in his blood-blurred sight.

A slender figure stepped out of the overturned SUV.

A woman.

A shadow in black.

She held a military knife in each hand.

Under the moonlight, the blades flashed with a cold, terrifying sheen.

She moved—and bodies dropped.

Every time the blades rose and fell, another attacker collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Murray's heart—what was left of it—seemed to seize.

"Is that… Miss Vance?"

He forced himself not to black out.

He tried to push himself up, but his body wouldn't listen anymore.

Only the last scraps of his mind kept warning him: "You don't have much time."

A gun muzzle appeared behind Maeve, aimed at the back of her head.

Murray tried to shout a warning, but only a rasping, broken sound crawled out of his throat.

The shot came.

Maeve spun and flung a blade.

The bullet struck the knife edge.

The last time Miss Vance had been hunted, he and Mr. Andres had arrived with the rest of the team.

And what they'd found then had been just as impossible.

Maeve's true strength… was far more terrifying than he'd ever understood.

At last, Andres arrived with his men.

And this was what greeted him.

"Maeve!"

The moment the cars stopped, Andres ran to her like he couldn't feel the ground under his feet.

In the harsh night, Maeve's hair was a mess, her eyes empty and cold.

The air reeked of blood.

Both knives in her hands were still wet with it.

She looked like a judge stepping out of the underworld.

And those eyes—those eyes weren't the Maeve Andres knew at all.

Andres lowered his voice, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter something.

"Maeve. It's me."