Larissa Judson and Haskell Palmer novel Chapter 744

“Agh!”

A wave of intense dizziness and suffocation washed over the hitman. It felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body. His tall frame crumpled, pitching forward.

Nightveil drove her knee into the small of his back, pinning his spine. She wrenched one of his arms behind him while her other leg came down hard on his opposite shoulder blade, locking him securely to the cold floor.

The only sounds in the room were the hitman’s ragged, pained breaths and the silent, ironclad dominance of Nightveil’s hold.

Paxton, clutching his wound, watched in disbelief, his face a ghastly white. The towering hitman had been taken down by a slender woman.

A flicker of an indescribable, complex emotion crossed Vivica’s face—the woman Larissa had sent to protect her had actually saved her life.

Suddenly the pinned hitman clenched his jaw and made a subtle swallowing motion.

“Trying to die?”

Nightveil’s voice was like ice. The instant his Adam’s apple moved, she clamped her hand on his jaw, her grip so powerful it felt like it could crush bone.

“Mmph…”

The hitman’s attempt to swallow the cyanide capsule was brutally interrupted as his mouth was forced open.

Nightveil’s gloved fingers reached inside and quickly retrieved a small pill, which she flicked contemptuously onto the floor.

“You’re not dying before my boss gets here,” Nightveil said, her voice chillingly calm and utterly in command.

She readjusted her grip, ensuring the hitman was completely neutralized and unable to attempt suicide again. Only then did she lift her cold eyes, her gaze sweeping over the ashen-faced Paxton before finally settling on the devastated Vivica.

Paxton’s face was bloodless. This woman’s intervention had completely shattered his meticulously crafted plan. He was finished!

Vivica looked up, her expression a mask of despair.

Larissa ignored her and kicked open the door Vivica had been leaning against. Without the support of the door, Vivica nearly toppled backward. The jolt seemed to bring a flicker of life back into her eyes.

Inside the room, Leopold was sleeping soundly.

Larissa walked to the bed, inserted a silver needle into a pressure point on Leopold’s neck, and then slapped him hard across the face. That slap, she admitted to herself, carried a bit of personal frustration.

Leopold groaned in pain and his eyes fluttered open. Seeing Larissa’s face looming over him, he blinked in disbelief. “Larissa…?”

He shot up in bed. “Am I dreaming? Larissa, what are you doing here?”

Larissa gave him a withering look. “There was a life-and-death struggle happening just outside your door, and you slept right through it. Your mother was almost killed, did you know that?”