Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress novel Chapter 1824

1824 /1825

Chapter 1824: Slater’s dilemma

BANG!

For a second, time stopped until another round was heard in the small room. Those guarding the path started shooting the men in uniform. And by men in uniform just like them, that included Slater.

"Shit!" Slater, quick to react, slid away the second the first shot was heard. In the next second, more gunshots rang out, so he took shelter behind a counter.

He flinched as some bullets managed to hit his cover. He didn’t fire back.

’Damn!’ he hissed, waiting until the gunshots finished. But they didn’t. In under a minute, all the bullets were coming directly at him. Fortunately, this counter was thick enough to protect him; otherwise, his body would’ve been riddled.

’What are they—why are they only firing here?!’ he panicked, sensing there was only one left. Him.

Since the men guarding the path had shot Nathalie’s men, Slater was quick to assume these guys were probably on their side. Just like him, they were blending in. However, with the ongoing battle somewhere in the mansion, he assumed they were also making their move.

The only question was, whose group were they from?

Mint’s? Hugo’s? Zoren’s? Penny’s?

As the men kept shooting in his direction, taking him as the last remaining soldier of Nathalie, Slater panicked. He could hear footsteps despite the deafening gunshots.

"It’s me!" he shouted. "Stop shooting, it’s me!"

But his voice barely reached them. Clenching his teeth, he grabbed his rifle and pointed it at the ceiling.

"It’s... ME!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Slater fired five continuous shots at the ceiling, enough to signal to the others he had no intention of fighting back. Sure enough, the soldiers firing at him stopped. However, they didn’t lower their guards or their weapons.

Once the noise subsided a bit, Slater’s voice was heard again.

"It’s me!!" he harrumphed. "Are you trying to kill one of our own?!"

The soldiers furrowed their brows, looking at each other. One of their own? Their group wasn’t that big, nor was it small, but it was enough for them to recognize each other. But then again, there were other teams in this operation.

"Show yourself!" one soldier shouted. "And drop your gun! Throw it away where I can see it!"

Slater hissed, but he did as he was told. He unstrapped his rifle and tossed it away. The rifle glided on the floor until it was within the soldier’s line of sight. Following that was a handgun, its handle hitting the rifle. Then a few more weapons, including a knife that was already in this uniform when he took it.

"I’m getting up—DO NOT SHOOT!" he yelled, emphasizing every word.

The soldiers didn’t answer, but even before they saw Slater, one of the hostages spoke. Despite her pitiful state, she muttered,

"Please... do not... hurt him," she coughed. "He’s helping us."

The soldier gazed at the beaten little girl, who was on the stretcher with a few like her. His brows rose, shifting his eyes to where Slater was. This time, Slater already stood. Both his hands were raised on either side of him.

"Do not shoot," Slater breathed out. "It’s me."

The soldiers studied him, but somehow, they couldn’t recognize him. Seeing the doubt in their eyes, Slater carefully brushed the hair from his forehead to the back.