The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy! novel Chapter 555

Chapter 555: Shoot It

Back to Lola...

The truck—where the leader of Lola’s hostages and another one sat quietly—crept forward as they watched men stop the vehicle two cars ahead of them. One man spoke to the driver, while the others inspected the car thoroughly, even opening the back to check what was inside.

"Shit..." the driver hissed under his breath, clearly nervous about the situation.

His colleague in the front passenger seat gulped, his shoulders tensing.

"Boss," he whispered. "This is not going to work. There’s no way this is gonna work!"

The boss, seated behind the wheel, didn’t answer. Instead, he focused on the men inspecting the vehicle ahead of them.

"We shouldn’t have followed her in the first place," the other man continued. "If we didn’t follow her, we wouldn’t be in this situation."

They could have been drinking at a bar, or perhaps gambling away the little money they had left. At the same time, they were financially desperate, questioning whether their group would even survive without any gigs at the moment.

Had it not been for their financial troubles, they wouldn’t have even looked in Lola’s direction.

But regretting it now was pointless.

They were already in this situation, and they had already helped her take those two bound men. There was no turning back.

Still...

"They’re heading this way," the man muttered, his voice rising. "They’re headed this way!"

"Shut up!" the boss hissed, glaring at him. "Shut up if you don’t want to get both of us killed."

He huffed sharply, eyes sharp as he looked ahead. He gulped, gripping the steering wheel before loosening his hold. Then he shot a glare at the man beside him.

"Fix yourself," he warned. "Or I’ll kill you first before they kill me."

The other man’s breath hitched as he nodded in understanding. He sat stiffly, sweat dripping down his forehead and the side of his neck.

Then, just before they could fully recompose themselves, they heard three gunshots.

Both men flinched at the sound, eyes wide as they watched the scene unfold before them. In the car ahead, the man who had been speaking to the driver suddenly pulled out a gun and opened fire.

Witnessing something like this wasn’t surprising. If anything, everyone had grown almost accustomed to it. Even so, knowing they could end up just like the people in the car ahead made the boss and his lackey feel as though their souls were trying to leave their bodies.

Strangely enough, that very scene snapped their minds into focus.

They had to do this right.

They had to.

Otherwise, what they had just seen was a preview of their own fate.

As they watched one of the men who had been inspecting the vehicle climb into the driver’s seat and drive it away, the boss and the other man followed the scene with their eyes. They glimpsed someone inside the car—limp bodies, blood everywhere—before the broken window disappeared from view.

"Hey, you!"

Both men snapped out of their thoughts at the shout. When they looked ahead, they saw the man who had opened fire gesturing for them to move forward.

Slowly, the boss stepped on the pedal, driving like a snail until he came to a full stop.

Just like the cars before them—both the ones that passed and the ones that didn’t—men began circling their truck like vultures. The man doing the questioning leaned against the driver’s door.

When he saw the men inside, his brows rose. The men in the truck carried confident expressions, even offering him a smile.

"Boss, what the heck is this?" the boss asked, propping an elbow on the open window. "Something going on or what?"

That damn thief!

The boss clenched his teeth inwardly, though his smile remained. Feeling the shift in the air, he tried to calm himself. His mouth trembled as sweat slid down his neck.

After a deep breath, he let out a defeated smile.

"Alright," the boss raised his hand. "You got me. I don’t know those guys, but we are transporting someone."

The man outside raised a brow but said nothing. He pushed himself off the door, one hand resting on the pistol at his waist. He signaled his men with a jerk of his chin.

"Boss, look—" the boss tried again. "It’s really nothing. Just business. We’re transporting someone and getting paid. Money’s tight right now..."

He kept talking, but the man outside ignored him, watching instead as his men approached the back of the truck.

"Someone’s here!" one of them shouted, lifting the blankets and piles aside. A small foot was revealed underneath.

Though the foot didn’t move—and it looked like it belonged to a woman—the man recoiled, raising his gun.

The boss and his lackey watched through the mirrors, barely breathing as the man aimed at the figure beneath the pile.

"She’s already dead!" the boss panicked. "Please! Don’t shoot her! We need her organs! We can’t sell it if there’s a hole in it!"

He pleaded desperately until the man outside glanced at him. Then he turned back to his subordinate and nodded.

"Shoot it," he ordered.

And without hesitation, the man raised his rifle and aimed at the mound beneath the blankets.

BANG!